


Your Friend Dave

by nye2020



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, M/M, Medium Slow Burn, being a kid and growing up, it's hard and no one understands, sollux/dave is in the past, there's no sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 02:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15014441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nye2020/pseuds/nye2020
Summary: Sometimes all it takes is third-wheeling your best friend's girlfriend.A story based off the song "You, Me and Steve" by Garfunkel and Oates, in which Dave is Steve and Riki & Kate are John's girlfriend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EdgarAllenPoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/gifts).



> This exists because I lived with EdgarAllenPoet while writing and they asked me every day for >3 months if I had finished already. Thank you, thanks to the editor, and thanks to my mother who asked to read it and texted me halfway through asking if John/Dave shippers existed because she now was one. 
> 
> Set in a vague future where the game happened, it ended, and now everyone is living normal lives on Earth. Featuring all the trolls turned human and loving it (to varying extents).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** for a footnote at the bottom, additional notes at the end.

You’d always found John’s friend-making prowess equal parts impressive and disconcerting. 3:15 this early January afternoon had brought no exceptions to the rule. John bounded into the little apartment after bio and loudly announced that you both had plans tonight, _so you’d better put your game face on, David_. You looked at him skeptically and he laughed at you. 

“Come on dude, it’s gonna be awesome,” he said, and wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

You sighed and shook your head. “Pretty sure ‘bowling’ and ‘awesome’ are mutually exclusive. We can’t all have my finely-tuned cool kid radar but that one seems obvious.” 

“Your cool kid radar is obviously tuned to the wrong station because bowling is great and Carly and Shannon are great,” he told you. 

“Gosh, you even went out of your way to find the two most Midwestern-cheerleader named ladies to be our escorts. Makin’ me feel right at home.” 

John rolled his eyes at you fondly. “They’re awesome. And the fact that they also happen to be cheerleaders doesn’t negate that.” 

“You know in all your cheesy movies the nerd doesn’t end up with the cheerleader, right? He ends up with the hotter nerd that was grotesque until she took her glasses off at prom,” you said. 

“I think I’m really more like a band geek than a nerd nowadays,” he told you and flopped down next to you on the couch. “And ladies love musicians. Soooo..” He elbowed you and wiggled his eyebrows again, harder. “I bet they’d come to your show next week.” 

You froze and narrowed your eyes at him. “Hold up, hold up. Are you _Failure to Launching_ -ing me, Egbert?” 

You watched him smile a huge, goofy smile. “David. You should be so lucky.” 

And that, like so many things in your life with John, had been that. You rolled up promptly to the AMF – _fashionably late isn’t real, dude_ – and ordered a pizza and a lane. John snapped a photo of you posing like Captain Morgan in your bowling shoes.

“I always forget you have Godzilla monster feet!” He snickered, and then looked down at his own feet, woefully un-socked in boat shoes. You’d dutifully Snapchatted him sliding miserably into the rentals and that had been when the girls walked in. 

You were happy to own up to what you were doing, posting a video of your best bro’s feet on social media, but the ghost of an old Dave in the back of your mind whispered that it was a terrible first impression. John hopped up unabashed and hugged them both, shepherding them towards you. 

“Dave, Shannon and Carly, Carly and Shannon, Dave!” He chirped, and winked at you. 

You nodded reflexively from behind your sunglasses and slid your phone into your back pocket. 

“I’ve got takeout riding on my ability to beat Egbert tonight,” you told them. “Bowling is serious business in this family.” 

Shannon and John, it turned out, were actually pretty good friends. He swooped her up onto his team and Carly moved over to you, swiped her hair back over her shoulder so it splayed out against your arm. 

“Twins tonight, huh?” She smiled up at you. She stepped out of her heels into the bowling shoes and you offered her your arm for balance. She was taller than Shannon, closer to your height. You were both wearing red and both, you were fairly sure, naturally blonde. 

Seventeen years of majorettes and mums and Big Texas School Spirit had really soured you on the whole deal, but Carly was objectively beautiful even with the Cowboys cheerleader vibe she had going on. 

John’s defeat at your combined hands was shameful. Against a less-worthy opponent it might’ve been an alright effort, respectable even, but against you and Carly it was a slaughter. 

John punched you in the arm when the game ended, laughing. “You asshole! Every other time we bowled, you hustled me! I thought you were terrible!”

“It was the long con, O Unseated Prankmaster,” you said. “Chinese food delivered to my mouth by tomorrow night or I’ll collect interest.” 

“Oh man,” he punched you again. “Shannon and I are gonna go cool down our burns with consolation ice cream.”

Shannon piped up. “It’s this really cute place by, like, the Flagship on Mansfield. If you guys drove here y’all’s car here, I can take John and you can take Carly?” 

John was trying and failing to hide the thumbs up he gave you and you were sure the girls exchanged equally meaningful, if subtler, eye contact. 

“We’ll give them a chance to strategize for next time,” Carly said, and Shannon winced theatrically.  
“Ouch.” 

John gave her a high five and shook his head at you. “They won’t know what hit ‘em!” They giggled their way outside and Carly took your arm again. 

“Do you actually hustle him?” She asked you. 

“Eh. Depends on the definition. There was never money involved before,” you told her. “I may have kept it classified until this exact moment that my older brother enrolled me in a bowling team as a third-grader. Just never came up.” 

She laughed and you knew she thought you were kidding. She had a nice laugh. It was two distinct notes and then an exhale, low and then high like a bell. You didn’t clarify and slid into her Jeep Wrangler. 

You were two minutes and fifty seconds into the drive, some indie CD pulsing in the speakers, when she stopped at a red light and looked you up and down in the passenger seat. 

“Alright, I’ve gotta ask.” She paused. “Two asks, actually. How is your hair possibly that color?” 

“Straight from the womb. Born like a cherub with a full head of this stuff.” As far as you’re aware, that’s true. Bro’s is the same. There’s a picture of you in a dumb gilt frame in the living room as a baby, gnawing on a game controller with a little purple crown perched in your nest of white-blonde hair. At least Carly hadn’t tried to touch it. You ran your own hand through it. 

“That’s crazy,” she said. The light turned green. 

At least you’re used to the question. You’ve never tanned very well and the bleached bone radiance of your mop stands out even against the ridiculous paleness of your skin. At least Carly hadn’t asked for your hairdresser’s number.

“Okay, second question. What’s up with the sunglasses? Is it like, a Corey Hart tribute thing, or are you on the run from the law?” 

You get asked this one less often, the question relegated to a distant second behind confused and suspicious looks. Looks that would be a good deal more confused and suspicious if you ditched the sunglasses. The hair on its own is weird, but acceptable. The hair paired with your naked eyes, a truly alarming shade of red that John likes to tell you is veritably bioluminescent, is a whole new world of strange and strangers’ opinions that you’d rather not deal with. Jade had once told you the whole deal reminded her of the Wendy’s mascot, which had seemed pretty fucking unreasonable because having freckles and the color red somewhere in the head area was not sufficient similarity for a comparison. Jade’s eyes are green, anyways. She’s got no room to talk. John’s got these ridiculous clear blue eyes that you’d swear on your life still change with the weather. People swoon for far less, including, in this case, your darling sister. There’s something romantic and intriguing about her purple that doesn’t translate to your red. Purple is some fucking fairy princess shit. Red is a demon-infested seven-year-old in a box office hit but critical flop horror movie. 

“Sensitive irises,” you told her, and you could feel her disbelieving look. “I’m an international man of mystery,” you tried. 

She laughed and you unclenched. “It’s your turn to ask one, if you want.” 

“Yeah,” you said. “You are from Texas, right?” 

She laughed again. “If you aren’t, then I’m not either. I was gonna go to Texas Tech, but the scholarship was better here.” 

You looked at her shirt again and picked out the double T’s emblazoned in white on the hemline. 

“Was it my lusty country boy accent that gave it away?” You asked her. 

“Please,” she said, “you can always tell.” 

 

John flopped down on the couch when you got back and you tossed him a soda from the fridge. You cracked yours and stood by the counter to drink. He wiggled his toes, hanging off the edge. 

“If I wake up tomorrow encased in a mold cocoon from my infected bowling feet, you’ll have to cut me out and carry me to the hospital,” he mused, and you could hear the skeptical excitement in his voice. 

“If it’s flesh-eating bacteria I’m not touching you without a Hazmat suit,” you said. 

“Necrotizing fasciitis,” he told you.  
“Finally, a Vagina Boy of my very own,” you told him.** 

He made a gagging noise. “Second worst thing you sent me with no explanation in middle school.” 

You both went quiet. The space heater chugged away and you shuffled forward across the kitchen tile to nudge your shoes off and shove your toes as close as possible to the white coils. 

“I still can’t believe how bad you beat us,” John sighed. 

“Thrashed,” you said. “Thrashed within an inch of your life, and then through all your remaining lives, sans save slot.” 

He threw an empty soda cup from somewhere under the couch at you, still lying down. An invisible draft carried it all the way over and you batted it down. 

“Your alter-ego is bowling champion,” he told you. “I’m gonna buy you a monogrammed shirt for your birthday.” 

“Already have several,” you told him. You do, too. They don’t fit anymore. You melted down all your old league trophies. You’re actually not sure how this never has come up before. Rose would tell you it’s your twisted subconscious preventing you from being emotionally vulnerable and sharing personal details. But she’s not even a fucking psychology major, the fraud, so what the fuck does she know.  
“That went great though, dude! You’re so weird about girls but I’ve never seen you bomb once.” 

You chugged the rest of the Tab and crushed it against the fridge door. “I don’t go around advertising my moves like a douchebag,” you said and walked over to him, moved his feet out of the way and sat. He put them in your lap and you spread your legs into a vee, scooting the little IKEA table out of the way. 

“Not that it’s any of my business,” he said. “I just want you to be happy! You could totally like, have a cool lady friend if you wanted, that’s all.” 

You snorted and grabbed the controller to queue up a game on the flat screen, one of the few nice things in the apartment that you’d pilfered from Bro.

“All that sexual charisma I gained growing up on a porn set,” you said. “There’s a girl out there for you too, boy wonder. Buck up, little camper.” 

“Pfff,” he laughed and ruffled your hair. “Duh. I learned from the best.” 

You pushed your glasses back onto your head and side-eyed him. 

“Not you,” he said, and patted your side gently. “Obviously, I meant John Cusack.” 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

TG: alright so whatd he tell you

TT: Good morning to you too, Dave. “He” being John, I assume?

TG: no i meant vantas yes john

TT: Well, from what I hear he’s enjoying his studies and looking forward to the jazz concert next month.

TG: do we seriously need to do this

TT: You’re such a charming conversationalist, Dave. Something I’ve always admired about you.

TG: id just like to get the oohing and aahing about my dating life out of the way early

TG: just cut that motherfucker off at the head

TT: Aside from his general excitement about how well he thought it went, I’ve heard nothing.

TT: Contrary to popular belief I actually have very little to say about your romantic choices.

TT: You might consider contacting Vantas if you’re looking for advice and/or admonitions.

TG: somehow ill find the self-control to ignore such a golden opportunity

TG: just confirming this is not a grand group plot to get dave strider laid

TT: I genuinely think John just enjoys all of his friends being friends and spending time together.

TT: If it ends in a double wedding, so be it.

TG: yeah yeah

TG: i guess i gotta text her

TG: do my gentlemanly duty

TT: The big man hass the ball in his court.

TG: about to up and take his shot

TT: You are the big star, it’s you.

TG: about to pull a rudy on this 

TG: touchdown 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

 

You closed out Rose’s chat window and stared aimlessly at your Pesterchum list for the four seconds it took you to realize that Carly’s handle wasn’t going to show up. You realized maybe you had been expecting it to. But you’re Real World Dave now, it’s you, and you should really be used to using your cell phone as your primary means of communication. 

Once the game had ended, you’d started to suspect Pesterchum was another one of its endless temporal features. You’d downloaded it from the ass crack of the internet in an effort to one-up Bros’ chat client of choice. The website looked like the Google team had set up home base on Geocities and you remembered being disappointed when Pesterchum itself had both looked and run pretty well.

You’d never had anyone else on it but the other three and the trolls, and the trolls, of course, had found you. You’re not sure you ever asked another person to add you. 

When the game ended you’d logged in, convinced it would disappear as you typed frantically. You’d hidden it in your hard drive and ignored it for as long as you could stand it. 26 hours, 4 minutes, 13 seconds, and then, of course, you’d come back to it. Reached out blindly and desperately for anyone and everyone. 

 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] 

TG: yo

EB: ‘sup!

TG: arent you supposed to be in class rn

TG: living out all your sexiest delinquent fantasies

TG: finally cutting class and breaking your perfect attendance record

TG: does it make you feel alive

TG: john did the cops get you

TG: are you a truant for life now

TG: should i call your dad

TG: how much is bail? i should prepare him for the level of bake sale hes gonna have to whip up to free you from this jam

TG: damn i can already smell the slutty brownies from here

TG: hes lowered himself for you

TG: are you proud of what youve made your father become

TG: youre tearing this family apart

EB: i’m taking notes on my laptop, dummy.

EB: i was gone for like two minutes!

EB: so needy.

EB: you’d better start coming to class with me or i’ll worry about you tearing up the apartment while i’m gone.

TG: curl up at your feet under your desk like a lost fucking puppy

TG: pop out from underneath like fdr

TG: just poke my head out and give your teacher the eye

EB: there’s no room in the 400 seat lecture hall for any extra students.

EB: i’m glad you understand.

TG: woah woah woah

TG: 400 seats and you cant spare one? stand up and defend my honor by kicking another kid out of the classroom?

TG: i get it

TG: youre propositioning me

TG: you want me on my knees down there

TG: upgraded to a true marilyn monroe situation

TG: im not that kind of girl john. i cant just be your dirty little secret.

EB: i think marilyn monroe’s president was jfk.

EB: also were i to be a president it would definitely be a president beck situation.

EB: who i guess was maybe kind of a shitty president, depending on how you read the movie.

TG: is that comparison because you literally escaped a literal meteor or because you think you have something in common with morgan freeman

TG: either way offer rescinded

TG: i will no longer be selflessly choking down your hog to distract you from your studies

TG: no deep impact puns about how far i can take it

TG: intercourse officially fucking canceled

TG: oh yeah

TG: do you have carlys number

TG: im supposed to text her back

EB: . . . . . . . .

EB: you are the romantic, dave. it’s you.

TG: the ghost of hella jeff is really fucking haunting me with that line today

EB: i’m almost 100% sure she gave you her number.

EB: i think I watched her program it into your phone.

EB: 100 percent.

TG: yeah dont think i didnt notice those eight dots either

TG: a doomed love, f8ted to end in tragedy.

TG: ::::)

EB: gross.

TG: yeah honestly i kind of feel like showering after even making the joke

TG: you have subpar choice in the womenfolk

EB: she’s actually pretty cool now!

EB: Mr. 2triider.

TG: 0_0

EB: ):

EB: not like that.

EB: shit, sorry dude.

TG: as if id ever with that fucking wannabe

TG: cool is born, not made

TG: really just sad on his end hes still incapable of understanding the echelons hed have to climb to reach my level

EB: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wx9XYrRpHjo

EB: mike understands you dude. he’s here for you in your time of need.

TG: okay haha lets just be done with this whole comedic circle jerk about sollux and i hate-fucking each other to commercial electro funk

EB: hehehehehehe

EB: but seriously, I think you already have it.

EB: carly’s number, I mean.

EB: go for it!

TG: * ! ! ! ! ! ! !

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] 

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

EB: hey rose!

TT: Hello, John.

EB: okay so normally i wouldn’t be asking something like this, because i wouldn’t want to betray dave’s trust, and it’s really not technically my business

EB: but we were joking around this morning and i thought i maybe really upset him

EB: but then i totally didn’t and that was great but he got defensive about something else

EB: that i hadn’t even really considered

EB: and now i’m asking you because i’m way too curious even though that’s not cool

EB: you can just tell me nothing or tell me to fuck off

TT: It’s particularly during times like this that I feel the 3 hour time difference

TT: Hold on for a moment while I finish my 7 am coffee.

TT: . . .

TT: All systems prepped and ready for untangling the depths of Dave’s psyche.

TT: From the beginning?

EB: hehe sorry.

EB: there’s not a proper beginning exactly.

EB: we were talking on pesterchum and he was ribbing me for my dumb teenage crush on vriska, which he does all the time, so i was teasing him back and called him mr. 2triider because he and sollux always had that weird dumb battle about who was more ironic or whatever

EB: and i thought

EB: that i’d, like. reminded him of the game. of something he didn’t want to remember.

EB: so i started apologizing

EB: and he turned it right back around into sort of a joke but mostly just being kind of defensive about how he never liked sollux like i liked vriska.

TT: So far this all seems fairly on brand for your conversations.

TT: Or at least, equal parts on brand for the two of you and for Dave’s endearing ball of minor insecurities.

EB: okay, see, that already is insight i did not have.

EB: i don’t think he’s insecure.

TT: It’s in no way an insult. We’re all insecure about something.

TT: I think Dave has come to terms with his use of irony and meme culture to cover up whatever may be distressing him internally.

TT: What was the question?

EB: did you decide not to study psychology because you thought you’d know more than the professors?

EB: the real question is

EB: whether or not dave and sollux were ever actually a thing.

EB: it just seemed like a big response for nothing.

TT: Quite honestly, I don’t know.

TT: I had my suspicions when we were younger, but it feels a little ridiculous now to look back at them with any seriousness.

TT: I was confident you, in fact, would eventually take Karkat up on his obtuse attempts at flirting.

EB: yeah i mean, that was only like the once we kissed, so.

TT: I would insert another ellipsis here but one seems sufficient for a single conversation.

EB: did i never tell you that?

EB: hehehehe

TT: I’m sure it conveniently slipped your mind.

EB: yeah! just wasn’t meant to be. he bit me and that was kind of it.

TT: I suppose this is your answer to your earlier question as well then.

TT: The reality of psychology pales in comparison to a dozen horny teenagers with the might of deities trying to navigate courtship.

TT: There’s less room in the actual profession for sordid romance and dark psychic undercurrents.

TT: And as charming as you and Kanaya find my prying, it’s not generally all that welcome. I’m not confident I was particularly accomplished at it anyways.

EB: ooh, tell kanaya i said hi!

EB: and that i haven’t gotten the new book yet but i’ll send pictures once it comes!

TT: Noted. She will be appreciative of your support.

EB: :) of course!

EB: and rose? you can psychoanalyze me any day!

EB: i think you’ve still got it.

TT: You’re too kind.

TT: Was that everything about Dave? I don’t mean to hurry you along but I’ll be needing to leave for a lab meeting soon.

EB: yeah, that was everything.

EB: i still feel kind of shitty for asking.

EB: i should probably just ask dave. i dunno. it seems weird.

EB: it’s not like i need to know anyways! just nosy. soooo noooosy.

TT: I’m sure if you begin with the details of your romantic rendezvous with Karkat he’ll open up readily.

EB: pfft, he already knows! karkat told him before i even got a chance!

EB: lured him in with shitty clipart like a dave taming professional.

EB: actually, i don’t know why he hasn’t brought that up like, a million more times.

EB: traumatizing visual i guess!

TT: Karkat’s a lot for any man, even on a good day.

TT: As always, keep me posted on any developments.

TT: And I’ll give Kanaya your love.

EB: bye rose!

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] 

Her name is Carly Watkins and she’s from Dallas. Her major is Art History. She is four months older than you and she loves the east coast, even though she hates the snow on game days. She’s tan, has a dog and two sisters, and is nothing like you expected. Again. 

You met up for coffee at the Peet’s in the library and she joked that it was somehow fancier than the only Peet’s within 20 miles of her house back home. You told her there were several in Seattle, and you’d been shocked the birthplace of Starbucks let anyone else encroach on its territory. 

“Wait,” she said, “I thought you were from Texas too! We bonded over it.” 

“Houston,” you told her. “Egbert’s pops lives an hour out of the city.” 

“So how do you two know each other? Met at school, or?” 

“Online. When we were wee babes courting danger on the world wide web.” 

“That’s kind of adorable,” she said. “I can’t believe you stayed friends so long! Did you fly out to visit him?” 

There’s a lot to be said about John, probably enough stories to fill one hundred one-on-one dates. You plowed through a few and changed the subject. Sometimes it felt like you were hoarding him, rationing out little bits and pieces to the world. It was a dumb fuck plan, though, because John is the friendliest motherfucker this side of the Rio Grande. He never runs out of anything. He’s got nothing to ration. 

A friend of Carly’s showed up five minutes before you’d planned to part ways. She fluttered around the table and chatted about cheer practice. You zoned out and pulled out your phone, flipping through some useless blog buried in your cavalcade of tabs. She whispered something in Carly’s ear and then pulled her in for a selfie. 

“Dave!” You looked up. Carly smiled and motioned for you over the table. “Get in here with us!” 

On the way to your lab she texted you the photo, a request for you to come to tomorrow’s football game, and a promise to let you crash the team pizza party if they won. 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

TG: check what i just sent you

TG: try not to get too upset, i can explain

TT: I’m weeping into my lavender perfumed handkerchief, curled up in the window seat of my castle. My vision of the lands beyond the grounds blurs with tears. You’ll have to speak quickly, before this slight to the Princess is noted and a war is started in her name.

TG: thats the girl john set me up with

TG: tripped me and got me to fall square on this romances american dream dick

TT: Is the purpose of this conversation critiquing a young woman, who is in all likelihood incredibly sweet, for her personal style?

TT: Or should I send it along immediately to Bro, stupefying him with the deep and unbeatable irony of dating a cheerleader and pulling a Stepford Wives?

TT: Or is this an admission of your latent incestuous desires to only copulate with blondes like your mother, brother, and sister?

TG: hey lalonde heres a hot tip

TG: try explaining incest or oedipus to the trolls

TG: completely foreign concept to them

TG: theyre all just one big incestuous slurry of cleaning supplies and jegus blood feuds

TG: you can cream your scented lace panties to your hearts content introducing an innocent species to sexual taboo

TT: I’ll find it in myself to move past your choice to replace me with a similar woman.

TG: the idea that id ditch the chick who completes my shining twins duo

TG: bred in some nightmare vat with the children of the corn

TG: is quite frankly batshit fucking maggots

TG: get those aforementioned panties out of a knot

TG: and clear up those abandonment issues

TT: I’ll never tire of your ability to sensationalize an issue that doesn’t exist and then viciously rip it apart.

TG: one of the many things keeping the casa de strider in hot and cold running bitches

TT: I wondered if you would outgrow some of the more problematic dude-bro lingo.

TT: It appears I have my answer.

TG: habits instilled from birth are hard to break

TG: nurture over nature

TG: or lack thereof or pants-shittingly terrifying over nurturing by a sex puppet

TG: but now with my college education i immediately regret it and curse bros name to the heavens like a 21st century viral heathcliff

TT: Aside from your fixation on the nonexistent implications of your current dating choice, how do you feel about her?

TG: tokyo drift level swerve on that conversational topic

TG: somebody better call vin diesel

TG: and then the rock because this beast of a vehicle careening into a sudden left turn is too much for the deez to handle

TT: Forgive me for trying to steer us back towards the impetus for your contacting me.

TG: yeah not sure whats up with that

TG: pretty clearly uncouth

TG: trying to suck out all the details from my clamped jaws like sexy fodder for your lady loves romance novels

TT: I’m an emotional vampire.

TG: its good that you can see your true self

TG: anyways gotta go get ready for this jockstrappalooza

TG: going full avatar here with my trusty sidekick

TG: later

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

John knocked on the bathroom door a fifth and sixth time, crooning your name against the crack. “We’re gonna be late for your very important date!” He pounded again. “Daveeeeeee. Get it together in there! I’ll sing for real!” 

You stared into the mirror and mussed your hair a final time. You slapped all your pockets, checking for car keys, and tightened your grip on the stick of face paint in your hand. John started singing. 

“I’m coming out, Pavarotti. Clear the area.” 

You kicked the door open and John plastered himself against the opposite wall. You watched his eyes widen and he laughed. 

“Dude-“ he started, and you stepped in close, pinning him. You cupped his face with one hand and drew a stripe under each eye with the gloopy Halloween makeup crayon. 

“Dude!” he spluttered. “Sabotage!” 

You let him go but stayed close, keeping him hedged in, ready for retaliation. “You say sabotage, I say sabataage.” 

“Paging Captain Kirk,” John said, and then dissolved into a snorting kind of giggle. You could feel your cheeks getting red under your own war paint.

“It’s all about school spirit, Egbert. This is the world we live in now,” you told him.

You watched him laugh. You could feel his breath against your chin. You thought, it must be permanently cool, huffing out of him tinged with mint and swimming pools. You thought you were probably smiling like the biggest goober since John crash-landed into Dad’s arms. 

“You look so lame, dude,” John finally managed. He got an arm free from the strange position you’d found yourselves in, all tanged in the hallway. He slid your sunglasses off and hooked them in the front of your shirt. You could feel the way his legs shook against yours every time his laughing set off again. 

He patted your chest, right on top of your heart. Your glasses swung. He looked up at you. Were you to recount this to someone later, you would tell them that time slowed down. The amount they’d call it poetic license would depend on who you told, but regardless of who you told, it would be true. You’re not gods, not anymore, but you have these little moments. 

John will know when it’s going to get stormy, and when it does the wind will glide over the top of his umbrella and leave him dry. Rose, in the sun, sparkles like a prism on the periphery of your vision. The rain sounds warbles when it falls on her hair and drips off her fingertips warm. Jade might as well be a Disney princess, the way animals flock and plants curl out of the ground to hold her hand. 

And you? You have this. Tiny and subtle manipulations of time. It’s kind of a rotten trade for what you used to have. At least, you figure, you never find yourself dead anymore. 

Time rolled down your back at quarter speed. You caught John’s eyes and kept them. You wondered if he could tell too, that you’d accidentally slipped the pair of you out of the classic temporal stream. 

For a second, like in every shitty movie he’d ever made you watch, you thought he was about to kiss you. He reached down and held your hand. Time sped up. 

“This color really matches your eyes,” he told you, and then he hooked his fingers in your shirt, tugged the neckline down, and scribbled a wavy shape on your chest with the pilfered face paint. 

You squawked and reeled backwards as John busted out in throaty chuckles. 

“This is the most dangerous prank war to start,” you got out, barely regaining your balance. He just kept laughing, bent in half and quite nearly slapping his knee like a geezer. His laugh was nothing like Carly’s. His laugh could fill a room. It’s deep and just keeps coming, simultaneously surprised and lived in. Like he’s got a song stuck in his throat that hums out with each gasp for air as he guffaws. 

Guffaws, you thought, because he was still a massive fucking dork through all of this.

You two finally managed to pile into your truck and get to the stadium. It was a full twenty minutes later than you had planned for. You could feel the seconds ticking through your pulse. John had ended up changing his shirt after the choice of white v-neck became truly unfortunate for the bright orange paint strife that ensued. _It might never recover_ , he crowed in your ear, clearly gleeful at this destruction of his personal property. _Maybe_ , he said, _we’ll tie-dye it this weekend. You’ve got to have extra clothes somewhere._ The new shirt was dark green and he had on that dumb high school cardigan, complete with embroidered crest. His hands were bare, fingernails glowing gently like tiny moons in the floodlights. 

You settled into your places in the stands and took turns throwing ripped up pieces of pretzel into each other’s mouths. You attempted to narrate the game to him, watched him revel in your subpar knowledge of sports. You hammed it up a little, maybe. No harm in it. 

“It’s like you lived in a cave and your only knowledge of the outside world came from Game Bro,” he said and munched loudly on a handful of caramel corn. “Which isn’t even correct, because they had to have reviewed Madden at some point. Where are you on WWE?” 

“Challengin’ me to a Yapapi Strap Match, boy?” you growled out. 

He turned to look at you, mouth open. “How have you been hiding a tiny Hulk Hogan in your stomach for so long without me noticing?”

You took a piece of popcorn from the bag between his legs and put it on his tongue. “Normally he’s sated and quiet. Tonight he’s getting hungry. Must be all the bogus mangrit in the air.” 

John snorted and scratched his cheek. He pulled his fingers back in confusion and wiped them on your nose, to your protest. 

“You know, dude,” he said, “your prank backfired. I would have been so down with painting everything.”

You shrugged. “You didn’t see your face. Surprise was worth it.” He shook his head at you. “I’m not a destructive prankster, Egbert. I’m chaotic good.” 

He flicked more popcorn at you and let you pull him into a noogie before the roughhousing got a little rowdy for the narrow benches. He smiled sheepishly and waved an apology at your seat neighbors and settled back down with his head on your shoulder. When your team scored he shot up to his feet to cheer so fast he knocked your chin back, hard enough to make your teeth rattle. You rubbed your jaw, spat on the concrete to check for blood. He looked down at you grimacing and pressed his soda against your face, condensation icy in the early January chill. You hissed and he shooshed you. 

“We’re winning, dude! No time for your grumps.” 

“I’ve been bodily maimed by a teddy bear. Gotta cradle my pride,” you told him, and he grinned. 

“Sop up some of that mangrit! Your jaw’s gotta be in top shape for all the pizza we’re about to consume.” 

And that, like so many things in your life with John, had been that. He was just that kind of guy. Hard to be mad at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Super cool guy, sci-fi author, and marine biologist Peter Watts contracted necrotizing fasciitis in 2011 and lived to live-blog the whole thing. The blog contains incredible photos of the wound and can be found at rifters.com under “Flesh-Eating Fest ’11.” This is the reference being made here.


	2. Chapter 2

“I bet it’s because you didn’t kiss her at the pizza party. You had all the opportunities, all of them. Tsk tsk.” John clicked his tongue against his teeth at you and rolled over onto his back.

“Can’t go where my heart can’t follow,” you told him. “We were just two different kinds of cool, too different to melt into something beautiful.” 

“I hope that’s how Elsa breaks up with people,” he said and tapped away at his phone. “Jade says you’re a lone wolf and she respects that about you.” He paused and nibbled at one corner of his lip. “She also says you’re drastically under-sexed and she hopes your balls make it through.” 

“Woman could make a sailor blush.”

You rolled yourself off the couch and onto the floor next to John. “I didn’t hurt her feelings, right?” 

He scoffed and flicked your forehead. “I don’t think you hurt her feelings when she broke up with you, no.” 

“We didn’t break up,” you drawled. “We weren’t ever really dating. If it ain’t official it ain’t shit. We decided against the possibility of any future romance.” 

John rearranged himself on his elbows with his head hovering over your stomach, still texting. 

“Did she hurt your feelings?” he asked you. 

“Nah. No feelings to hurt,” you said, and he dropped the phone on your stomach. You grinned down the length of your torso at him. 

“Nah. She was chill but it wasn’t meant to be. Alas and alack.” 

“Alas, the fair knight finds himself riding the countryside solo, searching for his fair maiden,” he said, grinning right back. 

“Alas,” you said, and put your head down and closed your eyes. You must have fallen asleep because it was dark when you opened them and John was gone. You attempted to stand and found yourself viciously cocooned in an oversized wool blanket Rose had knitted for you last Christmas. It was Thursday, January 25, 21:01, and you had no classes until Monday. You grabbed a jacket and headed out to see your buddy play at the dive bar on Stenton. 

 

The dating gauntlet had barely begun to cool where you’d dropped it when John scooped it right back up. You’d met her a couple times before. She played saxophone in jazz band and her name was Eleanor. 

“Eleanor?” you asked him. “Is she a grandmother from before the great war?” 

“No dude,” John told you, “she’s not a horrible shriveled crone. And I knew two Eleanors in elementary school.”

“Probably because all the tiny tots at your elementary school had to pass a pretentiousness test to get in. Not sure how you squeaked by.” 

“Well, yknow, Dad dressed me up in a ruffled shirt and coattails like a tiny prince for my interview,” John told you. 

“A ruffled shirt?” You asked him. “Pretentious, dude, not pirate. Maybe dressed you up like a baby Steve Jobs or something. Ruffled shirts are reserved for Pirates of the Caribbean rides and disturbing erotica.” 

You watched him snicker and his mouth begin to open. “I swear to Christ, Egbert, if you start quoting Silicon Valley at me or say the name Steve Wozniak I’ll smother you with this notebook.” 

He smiled at you, all his teeth showing, and booped your nose, snickering still. “I don’t know what you have against that show. You’d love it if you watched it!”

You moved out of his reach and flipped your hair back the same way you’d done since you’d first met and he’d made a Justin Bieber joke, the way that had never failed to get a laugh from him in seven years, you’re sure getting consistently more comical as your haircuts trended away from appropriate flip-length.  
“Ruffled shirts,” you repeated, shaking your head at him. 

“What can I say?” John said, and winked. “I was a rakish tot.”

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering twinArmageddons [TA] 

TG: sup 

TA: . . .

TG: tell me everything you know about silicon valley 

TG: i need the low down on this bullshit

TG: because if i have to hear john talk about it for another second ill take myself behind the shed for the kind of humane killing you only see in childrens books

TA: 2o you came two me, your clo2e per2onal be2t nub-bumpiing buddy, two dii2cu22 pii22iing off your actual clo2e per2onal be2t nub-bumpiing buddy.

TG: yeah to engage in classic human friendship tactic lovingly ruining each others days

TA: got iit. 

TG: so whats the deal 

TG: how inaccurate is it 

TG: are all your tech bubble venture capitalist pissbaby bros into this shit or raising a stink about it 

TA: oh, thank god iim offered a place iin the human pantheon, two partiiciipate iin thiis amiicable haziing. 

TA: flog me wiith your academiia, or 2ome other reference to the greek 2y2tem iim tryiing 2o hard two under2tand for thii2 joke. 

TG: animal house 

TG: you were looking for animal house

TG: do you want me to just answer myself and let you get back to sucking crypto dick 

TG: because ive had many a talk with that dude and hes chill as fucking ice 

TG: so ill get right the fuck on that 

TA: yeah iim ju2t really 2lammed riight now at my job iin 2an jo2e where ii dont liive or work and am 2ecretly a pro2tiitute.

TA: pun fully iintended.

TG: clearly you were the wrong person to come to 

TG: i know when to slink out of the room with my tail between my legs

TG: like the implied but not directly mentioned kids literature dog 

TG: this was a cool use of my time thanks cap

TA: aye aye fiir2t mate.

TA: fuck you two. 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering twinArmageddons [TA] 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] 

CG: IMAGINE, FOR A SECOND, THAT MY DEFAULT ATTITUDE WHEN COMMUNICATING WITH YOU IS NOT COMPLETE BRAIN-BLISTERING RAGE AND BEFUDDLEMENT AT YOUR INEPTITUDE. 

CG: NOW IMAGINE THAT’S EXACTLY HOW I’M FEELING IN THIS MOMENT, BUT AM TRYING TO TAMP IT DOWN TO HAVE A CIVIL CONVERSATION ABOUT THIS ISSUE. 

CG: AND TAKE ME AT FACE VALUE WHEN I SAY, I’M REALLY NOT TRYING TO COME ACROSS AS A TOTAL ASSUFCK, I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU’RE SEVERLY AND TRAGICALLY LACKING IN ANY FACET OF THE ROMANCE DEPARTMENT.

CG: SO I’M PHRASING THIS AS POLITELY AS I CAN IN THE HOPES OF INITIATING AN ACTUAL DISCOURSE WHERE WE CAN GET TO THE ROOT OF YOUR FUCKING DAMAGE. 

CG: WHY IN THE ABSOLUTE SHITTING MOTHERFUCK ARE YOU TEXTING SOLLUX ABOUT ANYTHING, LET ALONE THE PLOT OF A NOOK-SUCKING TELEVISION SHOW?

TG: you know ive since read some pesterlogs between you and jade

TG: and holy shit can that girl get a troll to heel 

TG: ive never been able to capture her exact brand of disinterest and exasperation 

TG: but its times like this i really regret not putting more effort into it

CG: GOT IT, WE’RE GOING WITH DEFLECTING THE ATTENTION FROM THE ACTUAL CONTENT OF MY MESSAGE, BECAUSE YOU’RE FUNCTIONALLY A FUCKING WRIGGLER UNABLE TO ADDRESS HIS FEELINGS.

CG: THIS IS GONNA GO DAISIES FOR BOTH OF US. STRAP THE FUCK IN STRIDER. 

TG: did you and rose mindmeld and forget to tell the rest of us? 

CG: THERE IS BLOOD ON MY KEYBOARD FROM HOW HARD I AM SLAMMING MY FUCKING HEAD ONTO THE TABLE. 

CG: A TABLE NOT A TENTH AS THICK AS YOUR CATASTROPHE OF A SKULL. 

CG: HERE I GO, TYPING AWAY LIKE A LUNATIC THROUGH PUDDLES OF MY OWN BODILY FLUIDS, ALL FOR YOU TWO ASSFUCKS. 

TG: is it just blood

TG: or other bodily fluids 

TG: are you just now at this very moment imagining sollux and i entwined in the throes of some seriously gnarly interspecies loving 

TG: wrapped up in a mess of limbs like a ball of snakes knotted up to preserve body heat in the giant temperature sink that is the desert at midnight

TG: all manner of flushed and dripping 

TG: is that whats actually happening on your keyboard

CG: SO HERE’S WHAT I JUST LEARNED.

CG: YOUR OWN MOTHERFUCKING ROMANTIC LIFE IS ABOVE YOUR OWN MOTHERFUCKING PAYGRADE. YOU ARE SO INCAPABLE OF EITHER ALLOWING ME TO ASSIST WITH THE PATHETIC FUCKING WRECK THAT IS YOUR DATING HISTORY OR LISTENING TO ME WHEN I SHOW UP OUT OF THE FUCKING BLUE TO TRY AND EXTEND AN OLIVE BRANCH BETWEEN MY FRIEND AND MY ALMOST NOT FRIEND. 

CG: THE FACT THAT AT SOME POINT I AM SURE IT HAS CROSSED YOUR MIND THAT TROLLS, NOT HUMANS, ARE STUNTED IN THEIR EMOTIONAL GROWTH BY THEIR UPBRINGING MAKES ME WANT TO ASK TEREZI TO SWING THIS USELESS, STICKY KEYBOARD INTO MY FACE IN THE HOPES IT BREAKS MY NOSE AND SENDS BONE SHARDS ROCKETING INTO MY BRAIN, THUS KILLING ME. 

CG: YOU ARE THE MOST EMOTIONALLY STUNTED PIECE OF COCKFUCK I HAVE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO INTERACT WITH. 

CG: THANK FUCKING JEGUS I HAVE SOMEONE ELSE WHO CAN DEAL WITH YOUR HORSESHIT.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] 

TG: wait what

You’d never said it before and would probably never again, but the organic chemistry exam you had that afternoon was a welcome distraction. Of course it hadn’t been sufficient for you to feel like a complete idiot the second you’d pressed send. It hadn’t been sufficient for you to continue feeling that way with every subsequent message, because you’re not a fucking coward and you weren’t about to just back down and ghost. It hadn’t even been sufficient for you to end the conversation feeling less like an idiot and more like a gigantic, gaping asshole. It could only be sufficient for Karkat to pop up in a cloud of angry smoke and remind you that, yes, you are a coward, because you still hadn’t had a real conversation with Sollux even though you both deserved it, and yes, you should really just go fuck yourself. 

You finished the exam with 45 minutes to kill in the period and dragged your feet all the way to coffee and back. You considered picking John up something but had no idea what Eleanor might want and figured showing up with only two drinks was rude. You cooled your heels outside the library and vacillated between going home early to the movie night John had planned for the three of you and showing up late. If you showed up early, you might have time to shower and try and block the entire day out under the hot water. If you showed up late, John would just shake his head in your general direction in that relaxed way he had when you did exactly what he knew you would. 

_Dude_ , he used to tease you, _how are you always so late? I know you’ve got about a million tiny clocks in your noggin._ If you slouched around the house enough he might even submit to ordering anchovies on the pizza. But then, maybe he’d ask what was wrong, and that was an avenue you had no interest in going down. 

In the end you walked into the apartment right on time. Your phone buzzed as you crashed facedown onto the empty couch.

EB: went to the store to grab popcorn and m&ms! need anything? 

You pulled yourself out of the lumpy cushions and started the shower. 

They came in while you were toweling off your hair in the bedroom. You heard the door swing open and John yell out to you, Eleanor’s footsteps following a second behind his. You gave it a minute as they settled, listening to grocery bags empty onto the little kitchen table and John chatter on about something that happened in his Music 129 class. You pulled your jeans back on and headed out. 

Eleanor’s hair was dark at the roots, sliding into a golden red at the tips, pouring up and out in tight, endless curls. It coiled around her face and down to her shoulders and bobbed as she moved, expressive as a living thing. She was from Baltimore and absolutely wanted pineapple on her pizza. 

“Just curious,” she said as you settled down on the couch with the mountain of food John always procured for guests, “is Dave short for David? I’ve got an uncle David and he hates being called Dave.” 

“Dunno,” you told her, taking a swig of Orange Crush. “Never actually seen my birth certificate.” 

She laughed as John snorted, then turned to him for confirmation in the ensuing silence. 

“I’ve never seen Dave’s birth certificate either,” John grinned at her. She pushed him gently into the couch and smiled back. “Dave’s brother is a mysterious guy. If he said Dave was short for Beauregard I’d believe it.” 

She turned to look back at you. “Your brother sounds interesting.” 

You shrugged. “You can google him if you want. He’s got this great website-“ 

John threw his hand over your mouth and shook his head at Eleanor. “Don’t go to any of Dave’s websites. They’re all cursed.” 

She half-laughed. You gathered up your spit and licked John’s hand. He yelped and pulled it back, then wiped it down your face. 

“It’s like living with a giant puppy!” He told Eleanor, shaking his head. He looked back at you, carefully wiping your cheek clean with the hem of your shirt, and burst out laughing. “Bad Dave. The worst Dave.” 

You pulled your shirt up farther and wiped your forehead. 

“Is puppy Dave housebroken, at least?” Eleanor asked him, still smiling, eyebrows still raised. 

“He’s supposed to be,” John said, and looked back at you. “Woah, Dave!” He poked at the exposed skin on your stomach. “Do you have abs now? When did that happen? Do you sneak out at night to deadlift?” 

You flexed against his hand as he poked at you. “Just that legendary Strider metabolism.” 

He laid his hand flat against your stomach. “You are the mysterious one, it’s you.” He moved back towards Eleanor and picked up the remote. “This is how he and his brother always are. So full of secrets!” 

She grinned back at him. “Is his hair full of secrets too? Are we watching Mean Girls tonight?” 

“Nah,” John said. “Something far more exciting.” He fiddled with the sound system settings, getting everything ready, and you settled back into the couch with your hard-won anchovy slice. You looked over John’s head at Eleanor, back of your neck prickling, to see her looking back at you. You gave her the thumbs up and looked back at the screen, but felt her eyes on you for another seven seconds before John got everything working.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB] 

CG: NOT TO GET IN THE WAY OF WHAT I’M SURE IS THE ROMANCE OF THE CENTURY BUT HAVE YOU YELLED AT HIM YET.

EB: we just finished the movie a second ago, hold your horses 

EB: i’m still not totally sure what i’m yelling at him for 

EB: should i just tell him to talk to you?

CG: WOW NOT SURE WHY I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE A BETTER POINT MAN IN THIS DISASTER THAN I BRIEFLY WAS. 

CG: SHOULD JUST GIVE UP ON ALL THESE LOFTY EXPECTATIONS, LIKE THAT YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO RELAY A MESSAGE SUCCESFULLY. OR MAYBE THAT YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO DO YOUR JOB AS MAN-FRIEND, A ROLE THAT YOU HAVE MADE SURE I UNDERSTAND THOROUGHLY WITH YOUR SHITTY EARTH MOVIES.

CG: WHY WOULD I EVER IMAGINE YOU, AN INDIVIDUAL OF THE SPECIES WITH THE EASIEST RELATIONSHIPS CONCEIVABLE, WOULD BE ABLE TO GET A GRASP ON NAVIGATING THEM BETTER THAN ME, A LITERAL ALIEN. 

EB: . . .

CG: OKAY READING THIS BACK TO MYSELF, IT DIDN’T QUITE COME OUT HOW I MEANT IT TO. 

CG: JUST TELL DAVE TO SHIT OR GET OFF THE FUCKING POT ALREADY. 

CG: HE AND SOLLUX CAN GET BACK TO WHATEVER DUMB SLOPPY MAKEOUT BULLSHIT THEY WERE ON BEFORE OR NOT, BUT HE NEEDS TO GET HIS SHIT TOGETHER OR I’LL SHOW UP ON YOUR FUCKING DOORSTEP AND RUIN HIS CAREER BECAUSE I CAN’T HANDLE SOLLUX MOPING AROUND LIKE THIS RIGHT NOW. 

CG: HOW ARE YOU NOT SIMILARLY SICK OF DAVE’S MOPING? AND DON’T PRETEND HE DOESN’T MOPE BECAUSE HE’S A FUCKING WRIGGLER GRUB IDIOT BABY. DO YOU JUST LIVE FOR THE DRAMA OF IT ALL?

EB: okay so i actually think i’ve lost all track of what’s going on 

EB: but please don’t try and explain it 

EB: because i think i’m miles behind whatever level of understanding you’re on and it’s only going to get more confusing 

EB: i’ve been in the bathroom texting for like five minutes now though so i gotta go 

EB: i’ll talk to him! 

CG: UGH. 

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

The sun had set during the movie leaving you and Eleanor in semi-darkness, illuminated by the white of the rolling credits. John had leapt up to pee the second it ended and the only sounds in the room were the strains of The Flys and your fingers tapping your screen. You stood up to take an empty pizza box into the kitchen and Eleanor pulled her own phone out, then exhaled sharply through her teeth. 

“Fuck. Totally missed the last bus.” She rubbed her neck and shook her head, all her curls bouncing in displeasure. 

“No reason to stress about it. John can borrow the truck to drive you home.” You tossed the box into the trash can and stomped it down, your leg disappearing into the grimy bin. “Or you crash here. He’d let you take the bed.” 

She gathered up an armful of plates and cups and joined you in the kitchen. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, I can Uber or something.” 

“Nah,” you told her. “I’m offering because he’ll offer anyways. Just wait.” 

She started the sink and rinsed out her glass of Pepsi. “Are you sure?” 

The lock on the bathroom door clicked open and you turned towards it, yelling down the tiny hallway. “Yo, Johnathan.” 

He pulled the door open and came over, hopping up on the table. “Johnathan, short for Ferdinand, actually.” 

“Eleanor missed the last bus home,” you told him.

“Oh, fuck! Sorry, Ellie!” He rubbed his nose and smiled apologetically. “If it’s cool with Dave, I can borrow the truck and drive you home! Or if you’re tired you can stay here. I’ll take the couch.” 

You looked back at her and she looked back and forth between the two of you. “Do you guys plan these things, or..?” She trailed off. 

John cocked his head at her. 

“She wants to know how I knew you’d offer,” you said. 

“Obviously it’s because you’re just the ultimate gentleman, and Dave’s just a little bit psychic,” she said, taking pity on John’s befuddlement, and he smiled. 

“Well, thanks!” He told her. “Whatever you want, I didn’t even think about how late it was!” 

You looked at her conspiratorially. “I’m the time guy around here. It’s those psychic powers.” 

John rolled his eyes and kicked his leg out in your general direction. “A giant puppy that terrorizes friends. Bad Dave.” 

Eleanor stepped out of the kitchen and leaned against the table next to John. “If you’ll make those omelets you were bragging about tomorrow, I’m down to stay over.” 

“Of course! Gotta back up those fighting words with actions. Those actions in this case, of course, being delicious omelets.” He smiled down at her and she rested her hand on his knee. 

You snagged your coffee cup, nearly empty, from behind John on the table and headed to bed.

ectoBiologist [EB] started pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

EB: i’ll talk to him tomorrow! 

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

CG: * UGH *

You were in the kitchen making tea in your travel mug when John yawned and sat up on the couch. He wrapped Rose’s blanket around his shoulders and propped his head up on the cushions. 

“Did you wake up so early just to make me tea?” He managed around another yawn. 

You pulled his chipped Slimer mug out of the cupboard and poured. “As your humble manservant, obviously. What’ll it be this morning, Master Bruce?” 

He shuffled around under the knit monstrosity and stood up. “Not sure, Alfred,” he said and made his way over to you. He hummed quietly as he rifled through a drawer devoted almost exclusively to loose teabags. He picked one up and held it just in front of your nose. 

“Tell me, what exactly is this one?” You leaned in and sniffed at the sachet, pushing your nose back into his hand. 

“Assam,” you said, and sniffed again, louder. He closed his hand around the bag and laughed. 

“Tickles, dude. Like feeding a horse an apple.” 

“You know,” you told him, grabbing the string and sliding the teabag out of his fist, “I think I should be offended by all these comparisons between me and various animals.” You dropped it into the mug and pulled the teabag out of yours. “Unless it’s just your way of easing me into the furry lifestyle.” 

He reached across you to snag your travel mug and drink. “I might have a whole second, secret kinky lifestyle you know nothing about.” He said and took another sip, making a face. 

“Done trying to burn your tongue off with pilfered liquids?” You asked, and he smiled. 

“Never. You make the best tea.” 

The steam rose up around him in wisps, curling around his ears and outlining the curve around the edge of his nose, forming little condensation drops in his eyelashes. The refrigerator buzzed at your back and John snuffled as he breathed, nose stuffy like it always was in the mornings. He held your mug out to you and you took it from him, dropping his teabag in the sink and offering his drink to him with your free hand. He took it and cupped his hands around it, breathing in. You imagined his lungs filling with it, bitter and faint, and watched his chest rise and fall. He tapped your forehead with two fingers. 

“Earth to Dave, mission control calling in.” 

You crossed your eyes looking up at his fingers and felt around your pockets for your sunglasses. He pulled them down off your head and they bumped awkwardly down onto the bridge of your nose. You stepped back and adjusted them. 

“You staying for breakfast? I think we’re out of cheese but cheese is for babies who can’t appreciate the value of good egg cooking.” 

“Can’t appreciate your eggs today. Got places to be, people to see.” You told him, and pulled out your keys. 

“Can’t keep the fans waiting, huh?” He teased, and you nodded. 

“They’ll go rabid and start looting stores in my absence. It’s like the world ends whenever my stalkers can’t find me in my regular routine.” 

“Yeah, it’s a little early for me to be responsible for the kind of catastrophic civic damage that’d surely result from a Dave Drought.” 

You smiled at him, in that dumb twitch of the lip way Jade always heckled you for, and felt your heart beat, 70 times a minute, just like always. The rhythm sunk down to your toes and you rolled onto the balls of your feet, fighting the urge to slide down onto the ground and finish the rest of your tea with John. Hide from the view of the rest of the apartment and fog up both of your glasses.  
You shook your head to dislodge the fog of the idea, evaporating out of the chilly morning air, pouring into both ears and making you dizzy. You screwed the cap onto your mug and rattled your keys. 

“Later, dude,” you told John, and made for the door. 

He waved a few fingers and suppressed a third yawn. “Seeya.” 

You were halfway across the threshold when he called out. 

“Dude, hold on! I’m supposed to yell at you!” 

You leaned back and eyed him. “In.. what context?”

“Don’t really know. But Karkat is pretty upset about it. Maybe you should just talk to him about it? I guess it’s about Sollux?” 

Your fingers tingled and bit down on your tongue, hard. You made a sound in the affirmative and pulled the door shut behind you, yelling through the wood back at John. 

“Later!”

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

TG: if this is our last conversation 

TG: just know i died doing what i loved

TG: getting blindsided and doubleteamed by the terror twins 

TT: What flower sprays are you imagining for the casket?

TG: black roses. keep it classic. 

TG: scratch that

TG: statue of slash crafted out of carnations

TT: The obituary will be, at a minimum, seven hundred words of free verse. 

TT: To clarify before I begin work on it, which of the many duos in our wide net of acquaintances that could be dubbed “The Terror Twins” are you currently dubbing as such?

TG: egbert and vantas 

TG: evp 

TG: the original ghostbusters 

TG: showing up out of nowhere and haunting me with shitty emotional baggage jump scares 

TG: sticking their fingers out of the showerhead in misguided homage to the american grudge remake 

TT: I think John would be incredibly tickled by such a nickname. 

TG: yeah its probably already their ring name 

TG: their pay-per-view match against legion of doom airs next week 

TT: What a shame you’ll be unable to attend and cheer him on, with your impending expiration at his colorfully gloved hands. 

TG: seems like reasonable retribution from where im standing 

TT: If I composed your obituary in iambic pentameter instead, this tale of woe would rival the Bard’s. 

TG: at heart im a poet of highest caliber

TG: if only id been born in 1788 and could fuck around venice with byron

TG: smoking hookah and writing cryptic and explicit odes

TG: but instead im stuck in the oughts self-publishing on soundcloud and gorging myself on frat rap 

TT: Indulge me in confirming a suspicion here.

TT: That is Byron’s actual year of birth, is it not? 

TG: you fuckin know it 

TG: anyways gotta blast

TG: deuces

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

By the end of the week, you were actually pretty impressed with the vanishing act you’d managed to pull. In the space of four days, you’d seen John exactly six times, and never for longer than five minutes. It had a nice order to it, your absences. You did an impromptu set at the club, went out drinking with Kenny and Lucas from modeling, ran two extra miles around campus every morning, and showered at the gym. You existed outside of the apartment and away from loaded conversation. There was just something about being stuck between John & Eleanor and Sollux that made you itchy. That pushed you outside, and away, and required morning air and distance to shake the kind of thoughts you weren’t quite prepared to wrestle with. 

You were in the middle of sending John a string of sweaty workout selfies with shitty snapchat filters when he texted you.

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 

EB: pizza party part two tonight!

EB: is there a language where the number 2 starts with a p?

EB: point is (heh heh) don’t even think about slinking away.

EB: this is a required face-stuffing film-watching extravaganza.

EB: eleanor found some weird shit at the secondhand store and it’s gonna rule.

EB: ps its crazy how much you sweat.

EB: you should bottle and sell it.

EB: essence of strider.

TG: rub yourself in my musk and the honeys come a-runnin 

TG: patented mix of salt, water, spice, snips, and snails 

TG: whats a snip? they ask

TG: on their knees, begging for just a hint at my kfc level secret recipe

TG: i just smile and doff my cap 

TG: because who the fuck knows what a fucking snip is 

EB: your rsvp has been accepted. 

EB: please arrive at 1800 on the dot. 

EB: you will be greeted at the door. 

EB: please leave all valuables at home and keep your hands inside the ride at all times. 

TG: so im not bringing this gallon of a1 strider secretions and trying to get your ladys business 

EB: nope.

EB: that’s next week!

EB: the apartment’s just not prepared for clients.

TG: well fuck egbert you shoulda told me 

TG: ill have to reschedule the shareholder meeting 

EB: just shaggy dog your hair and sweat all over them and they’ll fall under your spell.

EB: also this is kind of a disgusting joke.

TG: yeah yeah

TG: the dude doth protest too much

EB: but does he abide?

TG: the dude

TG: who is you and not jeff bridges

TG: is clearly pretending to be disgusted to hide his lust for the other dude

EB: the other dude who is you and also not jeff bridges.

TG: obviously keep up with the joke here champ

EB: you got it chief.

EB: 1800! 

TG: your lady love wont get all hot and bothered with the dude cockblocking your marathons

TG: dont want to steal her away from you soap style

EB: pffft

EB: as if you could! 

EB: nah dude, we totally want you to hang

EB: i love you and i love her and i really want you guys to be friends

EB: well, not IN love, but 

EB: 1800! don’t even pretend to forget 

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 

You threw the door open at 1759. “The dude returns triumphant from his time away in the war.” 

John looked up at you from a mountain of papers on the kitchen table and shook his head. “A minute early is decidedly not on the dot.” 

You chucked your backpack onto the couch and tossed the bag of caramel corn from under your arm onto John’s homework. 

“Had to show up early to throw shit around,” you told him. “They had a bake sale fundraiser in front of the Student Union. Two bucks for two pounds of that stuff. No idea how they stay in business.” 

John held his hand up for a high five. “Snack Star Strider strikes again!” 

You slapped his hand and he whooped. You pulled your hand back and blew on it. He rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand back. “Snack Star Strider has little tiny delicate baby hands.” He pulled it in and kissed the center of your palm, making a purposefully loud slurping noise. You twisted your hand around to lace your fingers together and held onto him. 

“The dude doth protest too much and loves the other dude’s fragile hands.” 

John snickered and squeezed. “The dude doth have a shitload of homework to finish before entertaining guests.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What kind of entertaining are we doing? Is this a stealth orgy?” 

“Yeah, Dave, it’s a stealth orgy where we just hold hands. It’s more of a romantic orgy than a sex orgy,” he said, and took his hand back. He looked over at the sink and groaned, stretching his arms up above his head. “We should probably do dishes. I guess it can also be a food orgy.” 

“Caramel corn is nature’s aphrodisiac,” you told him. He wiggled his eyebrows back at you. 

You spent the next seventeen minutes in companionable silence, John scratching away at an essay and you up to your elbows in dish soap. You set the last cup in the drying rack, a birthday gift from John’s Dad, and laid down gently on top of the table and John’s papers. 

“Is this a complicated tactical ploy to get me to not do my homework?” John asked, and poked at you with his pencil. 

“It’s a last-ditch effort to break this indestructible, matchstick formica table that probably survived some alternate-reality 50s nuclear fallout.” You wiggled around, knocking John’s papers askew. He swatted your knee. 

“Hate to break it to you man, but you’re doing way better at my proposed plan than yours.” 

You sighed and sat up, swinging your legs and shaking your wobbly perch. “Hey. I might have arrived fashionably early, but your ladylove is fashionably late.” 

“Oh, yeah.” John adjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his hair. “So, she’s not coming until 7. Getting you here early has clearly been the most successful ploy of the evening.” He rubbed the side of his nose and smiled. “Well, second most successful. After conning you into doing the dishes.” 

“Your endless dish-washing training has really turned my life around,” you told him. 

“I seriously don’t understand how you’d never hand washed a dish until college,” he snorted. 

“My hand washing skills are solid. You’re lacking in an appreciation for plastic cutlery and dishware.” You laid back down on the table and spread your legs, trying to get comfortable. 

“If you make snow angels,” John threatened, and shifted to hold the pencil at your throat, “I’ll be forced to kill you where you stand, fake a break-in, and use the tragic murder of my best friend and roommate to get an A on this torture paper.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest and closed your eyes. “Torture paper, huh?” 

“Did I forget to mention I was taking a comprehensive course in medieval torture methods?” John teased. You swiped aimlessly at the air above your head. He grabbed your hand and laid it on top of his head. You opened your eyes to confirm and twirled strands of his hair around your fingers. “Thought you might need the help, dude. Your aim is pretty weak.” 

“Complicit in your own torture. This paper has made you kinky,” you told him. He huffed out a laugh and you let your hand fall back onto the table. 

“Alright, so, I really think Karkat might kill me if I don’t pass on his message,” John said. You flipped him off. 

“Dude.” 

You covered your face with the offending hand and stood up. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Yeah.” You pulled your glasses off and rubbed your eyes. You slid them back on and looked at him. “Immediate reaction to any and all mentions of Vantas. Sorry.” You leaned against the kitchen counter. 

He looked at you for four seconds longer than you’d have liked, his eyebrows together. You shifted and shoved your hands in your pockets. 

“I don’t want to, like, pry too much. But I guess I kind of do, because you’re my best bro, and you’re acting so fucking weird recently. And I’ll have to fight you and Karkat both if your weird dumb argument is keeping you out of the apartment.” 

“You’ve got dangerous puppy dog eyes, Johnny E. Like you’re gonna pull out all my secrets from the deepest, darkest, most fetid depths of my soul,” you said, and pulled at a loose thread on your belt loop. 

He grinned. “So spill, Davey S! Open up your nautical locker. What’d you do to drive Karkat this far off the handle? I mean, I know he lives there, but that was like-“ 

“A majestic fucking quadruple pirouette off the handle?” You interrupted. 

He tapped the side of his nose. “I think we’ll be saying that when we’re eighty.” 

“Still be shredding when we’re eighty, you mean. Eating shit on Razors outside the nursing home,” You told him, and he smiled, a little more than before. 

“Soooooo,” he said, and stared you down. “What does Karkat think you did? If you wanna waltz around the whole thing.”

You took a deep breath and tried to look back at him. You watched his exasperation, and something you thought was probably exasperated fondness, play out across his face. You breathed it out. You felt the moment stretch, watched his nose wrinkle as one side of his mouth drew up unevenly with the other, smiling and crinkling at you. 

“Fucked Sollux. He thinks I fucked Sollux.” 

You watched John’s face shift. You thought, how achingly sweet it was. You tried to reach out and grasp the thread to slow the universe down again. To try and figure out what he was thinking before he could tell you. 

His chest moved in a laugh, but it was an exhale of a tune, and not a full symphony. Reedy and soft. “Karkat’s pretty protective. I think he took the whole leader thing to heart.” He bounced his toes off the table leg. “I’d probably have to fight someone who did you wrong romantically too.” He chewed on his bottom lip. You swallowed. 

“Not to insinuate you’re a heartbreaker. That would be rude of me.” He said, and laughed a little more, a patter of notes. He left space for you in his laugh, to fill out the rest of the melody. 

“An insult to my true skill. I’m a romantic juggernaut. This wild sexual charisma just can’t be tamed,” you told him. 

“Oh, Dave Strider, odes will be written to your long and storied sex life,” John grinned with all his teeth and rolled his eyes half-heartedly at you. “And other odes will be written to your ability to sidestep the issue at hand.” 

“I can twist words with the best of them. It’s that fabled tongue of mine,” you said. 

“I bet you were the worst at sleepovers. Just braided hair quietly and didn’t tell any secrets and then snuck home in the middle of the night,” John told you.

You shook your head. “Nah, dude. I brought the horror movies and ruined everyone else’s good time, so I wouldn’t be alone in my night terrors.” 

John balled up one of his papers and chucked it at your head. “For my sanity. And the sanctity of your bed. Which is super close to mine and so easily pranked. Also for the sake of my curiosity.” 

“I’m an enigma. Just can’t be tied down,” you said. 

John looked at you and sighed extravagantly. “Dude.” 

“Captor and I were briefly bumping uglies and then it got a little ugly and Karkat’s got his horns in a twist about it because he’s seen too many romantic comedies to let sleeping grubs lie.” 

“So,” John began, and paused. You watched his nostrils flare with his inhale, and his sweater bunch as he pushed it back up to his elbow. “You were.. like, dating Sollux, or?” 

You shrugged and slid your fingers through your belt loops. “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” 

John’s exasperation reached a hitherto unimaginable level. “And in that case what you had to do was Sollux? Like, when? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

Which was, really, the problem here. You didn’t have a good answer for him. Or any answer. It was too gay, maybe, or not gay enough. Or too personal. Or too close, maybe. Too big of a declaration to fill the already scant space between the two of you. 

“You know all about me kissing Karkat! Which, by the way, I still can’t believe you never got more joke fodder out of.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “It’s not like I would ever have a problem with that. We can be dudes who dig dick.”  
You felt yourself smiling. You felt him noticing. You felt every inch of vibrating particles that brought his stupid alliteration to you. 

“Only if we open a gay bar with that golden fucking name. Triple D. Dudes who Dig Dick. I’m not letting another business opportunity fall by the wayside.” 

John stood and shuffled his papers into little piles. He threw an empty Starbucks cup in the trash to your right and punched you, softly, in the arm. “It’s okay if you like Sollux. Or if you want to bring boys here, or whatever.” So achingly sweet. 

You watched the lurid fluorescent of the kitchen bulbs wash over his face, all the empty places you had freckles and he had dimples. You watched his eyes run a clear, ocean blue as he watched you. You reached across the open space, your fingers a drop in the stillness of the air, and you followed the ripples to where they lapped against his arms and knees and pelvis and cheekbones. Your hand found his hip and squeezed. 

“Right back atcha.” 

You bobbed in a sudden swell and the front door burst open. 

“Hello, Egbert residence? Guess whose class let out early!” 

Then, of course, your traitorous mechanics pulled that time thread taut and froze you in the 0.7 seconds before John would move away from you and towards Eleanor. His hair was a mess, but it always was, and you noted the place behind his ear he’d rested his hand and flattened it. You noted the darker blue seeping into his irises. You felt the ghost of your turntables under your fingertips and curved your hands reflexively, trying to grab hold of them before they melted back into the floor. John’s personal little storm spun through you and ruffled your shirt, warm flashes of post-rain summer wind chasing itself up your chest and down your neck. You sucked in his atmosphere, crackling, alive. Your fingers slipped. The world clunked back into place. His gaze, pulsing and blue and nighttime ready for the stars to appear, shifted. 

“Ellie! Sweet! Check out what Dave scrounged up from campus!” 

You started the first of three movies at 1859. Eleanor fell asleep at 2200. John fretted about whether or not to wake her up until 2203, when she did anyways at a particularly obnoxious sound effect. You went to bed at 2323, the last strains of the film scoring your exit.


	3. Chapter 3

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

TG: lube those claws up and take a deep breath

TG: just slide your hand right up my ass and puppet away 

CG: OH LOOK WHO FINALLY DECIDED TO SHOW UP, AND LOOK AT WHAT MANNER THEY DECIDED TO DO IT IN. 

CG: DID YOU DECIDE YOU WANTED TO BE RIPPED A NEW ONE? 

CG: I’M PRETTY FUCKING HAPPY TO OBLIGE. 

TG: have i got a money making opportunity for you 

TG: puppet snuff is a wide and wonderful world 

TG: ill get you the contact info for a guy wholl put that violence to use 

CG: TRY AND THINK FOR A SECOND ABOUT HOW MUCH I WANT TO HEAR THIS HORSESHIT. 

CG: CONCEPTUALIZE IT, IF THAT’S EVEN POSSIBLE FOR YOU. 

CG: HOW WHOLE-FUCKING-HOGGEDLY DONE I AM WITH YOU IN THIS MOMENT AND FOREVER. 

TG: use that furious inner poet as fuel 

TG: cyrano me, vantas 

TG: im afraid of worms, roxanne, worms 

CG: SORRY I CAN’T PARSE YOUR HUMAN MOVIE REFERENCES WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BLINDING MYSELF BEFORE I LOSE MY MIND HAVING THIS PANTS-SHITTINGLY STUPID CONVERSATION.

TG: its exactly that nuanced understanding of the human language that im looking for

TG: im sacrificing my rap god status here 

TG: laying it down at your feet and recognizing your perfumed mastery of patter

TG: self flagellating like a proper catholic fetishist 

TG: all so youll tell me what to say to sollux before we reenact some who shot first twilight zone interstellar battle bullshit 

CG: HOW INTERESTING YOU WOULD CHOOSE TO ASK ME NOW, AFTER I OFFERED MY FULL COOPERATION AND SUPERIOR ROMANTIC SKILL OVER A WEEK AGO, AND YOU PISSED IN IT. 

CG: WHAT EARTH SHATTERING MORAL QUANDRY WAS POSSIBLY VISITED UPON YOU TO FORCE ANY FUCKING SEMBLANCE OF SELF-AWARENESS. 

TG: if youre fishing for advice in how to jumpstart that moral quandary next time 

TG: sic cujo on me instead of lassie 

CG: NO, YOU’RE RIGHT, I SHOULD HAVE CHOSEN SOMEONE ELSE TO SHIT IN YOUR EARS UNTIL YOU LISTENED. 

CG: ALL THOSE OTHER PEOPLE YOU SEE EVERY DAY WITH AN INTIMIATE UNDERSTANDING OF YOUR BACKSTORY AND A GAG REFLUX TRAINED AGAINST PICTURING XENOBIOLOGICAL MAKEOUTS. 

CG: CLEARLY I’M THE ONE IN THE WRONG HERE, MOTHERFUCKING KARKAT VANTAS, WHAT A FUCKING LOSER, SO INCAPABLE OF PROPERLY ALLOCATING RESPONSIBILITY AWAY FROM THE PERSON WHO’S FUCKING RESPONSIBLE. 

CG: WHICH, IN CASE I WASN’T CLEAR ENOUGH, IS YOU ASSFUCKS, CAPTOR AND STRIDER, AND NOT IN ANY SHITTING WAY VANTAS OR EGBERT. 

TG: yeah you never wanna take that promotion to middle management 

TG: nothing but human resources and nonstop circlejerk emails about projects

CG: OH, SORRY I DIDN’T RESPOND SOONER, I ASSUMED YOU WERE TYPING SOMETHING LENGTHY AND NOT COMATOSE IN FRONT OF YOUR LAPTOP.

TG: im really into that contemporary horror thing where teens type a paragraph chock full of their dirty secrets and then delete it all 

TG: trying to recapture my lost youth like shitty filmmakers attempting to communicate a boring message to the audience 

TG: but hey maybe im just a gigantic asshole 

TG: bought straight from the smuppet factory and raised up proper 

TG: and am too critical of unfriended bedeviled rings etc etc etc 

TG: fuck blumhouse bring back eli roth 2k18 

CG: HEY I’VE GOT A GREAT IDEA. 

CG: GO TELL SOLLUX YOU’RE A GIGANTIC ASSHOLE AND CUT OUT ALL THAT OTHER SHIT AND YOU’RE SET.

TG: you’re a godsend vantas

TG: just the kick in the cock i needed to get through this 

CG: WHEN I TEXT JOHN AND ASK HIM TO STRANGLE YOU TO DEATH WHILE YOU SLEEP HE’S GOING TO REFUSE, SO I’D LIKE IT ON THE FUCKING RECORD THAT I’M REQUESTING YOUR EXECUTION. 

TG: hey karkat

CG: WE’VE SWITCHED TO MY FIRST NAME! WHAT INANE GEM IS COMING NEXT?

TG: thanks

TG: and sorry 

TG: let me whip up one of your bizarre conversations with yourself 

TG: and acknowledge what a sad seeping sack past me was

TG: just a worthless cowardly fucking pissbaby 

CG: IS THE TWILIGHT ZONE HERE NOW? 

CG: HAVE WE INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHED? 

TG: take it or leave it dude 

TG: im out

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering twinArmaggedons [TA] 

TG: ive got a message to pass along from past me

TG: just marooned on the shores of our past courtship 

TG: covered in tom hanks jizz

TG: real sos 

TG: so lets crack that shit open later

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering twinArmaggedons [TA] 

You were in the middle of your second physics lab of the day when your phone started buzzing against your thigh. Jade and her frogs smiled up at you from the screen and you absconded to the hallway to answer. Jade was cooling her jets during a 5 hour layover in an airport near you and in dire need of evacuation and spirits. You slipped back into the classroom, snagged your backpack, and headed out. John met you in front of the philosophy building and jumped onto your back when you turned around to unlock the truck. You caught him, just barely, digging your fingers into the backs of his thighs and bumping into the dented red door. 

“Dave!” He yelled in your ear, bouncing in your tenuous grip. 

“John,” you grunted back, and trying desperately to shift him away from a quick fall onto some very hard concrete. 

“How hard can we rage in four hours?” 

“No amount,” you told him, finally getting the key into the lock, “if you hold me hostage to your safety in the faculty parking lot.” 

He blew a raspberry on your neck and slid down to his feet. “Yeah, dude, hurry up, we’re gonna miss her entirely!” 

You flicked his forehead and got the door open and the car started. “4 hours and 7 minutes. How hard can we rage in 4 hours and 7 minutes.” 

Jade burst out into the pickup area and John threw open the back door just in time for her to launch into the truck and throw her arms around both of you in front. 

“You guys!!” She yelled, and you cupped your injured ear. 

“My favorite siblings, with no respect for a dude’s eardrum,” you told her. 

She beamed and pressed her whole mouth against your ear. “Thanks for the ride, honorary little brother!” 

John whooped and fist bumped her. You put the truck into gear and peeled out of the line of idling pickups. 

“Where to, sis?” John asked, twisted in half in his seat to look at her. 

She snorted and kicked her feet up onto your headrest, sinking down into the old cushions. “Bar, duh. I’ve learned so many new drinking games.” 

Because really, if you can’t cut class to get wasted in a college bar with the people who saved you, the world, and everything else, what excuse is there? 

You realized as soon as you pulled in to park that you could not, all three, get drunk at all. You would absolutely not be leaving your baby in the lot until you could Uber home and back to get it, and you wouldn’t be chilling in a creaking leather booth with John until you were sober and ready to get behind the wheel. You followed a few steps behind John and Jade and headed to the bar while they argued about whether to start with darts or pool. You procured a tray of twelve shots – four water, seven vodka, and one Everclear with John’s name on it – and proceeded to destroy John at pool while getting handily bested by Jade. 

The drinking game was hilariously complicated and Jade explained it four times before you were prepared to start. It was a mix of Never Have I Ever and people watching, with some Monopoly rules inexplicably thrown in. You had a sneaking suspicion Jade modified it last minute to fuck with you and John. 

He threw back his third shot and spluttered, coughing half of it up on the table. “Dude! That was not vodka!” 

Jade cracked up and reached over the table to high five you. “Dave! Good! You’re in the shenanigans spirit!” 

John kicked you under the table. “Get so ready for your comeuppance. I sleep so close to you. You’re going down!” 

You shrugged and settled your legs in his lap. “Guess we’ll just see whose sleeves are fuller.” 

Jade slid John’s last shot over to him and downed her last two. You’d already run out and had been elbowed excitedly by John, waiting zealously for you to get properly drunk. Your water ruse would be a good rebuttal to whatever future prank he set up. You could hear John’s Dad in your head. No doubt he’d be incredibly proud of your responsible and hilarious gambit here. You tuned the well-intentioned image of Dad’s thumbs up out and stacked your empty shot glasses. 

“Hold on, hold on,” John was telling Jade, “why did you just drink? Was it your turn?” 

“No way! I’m winning! But we’ve only got 30 minutes before I leave for the airport and we’re all too sober. We gotta make the most of this tiny hijinks window before I desert you guys all over again!” She crowed. 

“You’ve cornered the market on booze here, Harley. You’d win every round if your goal wasn’t inebriation and you’re happy either way,” you said, and she winked at you. 

“I’m a glass half full gal with my best guys!” She pounded both fists on the table and stood. “Just wait until I get back from the bathroom.” 

John cheered, grabbed your shoes, and started messing with the laces. “Dude. I can’t even believe this. She climbed Mount Everest! That’s Wonder Woman shit! Dad is gonna have a cow. Don’t give him her address. She’ll be inundated with pastry. We should get prints of her pictures for the apartment. She could fight a bear if she didn’t become its best friend and then ride it around like a monster horse instead.” You folded your arms behind your head and leaned against the wall, listening. He finished tying your shoes together in a Gordian gambit knot just as Jade got back. 

“Bad news, dudes. I might have been slightly wrong about my flight time and we gotta bounce, like, now.” She said, and John booed. “Dave, to the vehicle! Don’t think for a second you fooled me with that water trick! Such a gentleman.”  
John looked at you with his mouth wide open. 

“I guess I was the Knight for a reason,” you told her, and John tugged tighter at his deviant bow. “I can’t kill us all for nothing.” 

Jade saluted you and reached out her hand to pull John up. “I respect the fuck outta you, little brother! But you better take us out to do donuts in an abandoned scrap yard before we leave!” John let her get him to his feet and they linked arms. You slipped out of your shoes, thanking the great prank forces of the universe for how ratty and loose they were. You slid out of the booth and John looped you in. 

“I respect the fuck outta your ability to travel the world with such a terrible sense of time,” you told her as they pulled you along out the doors and into the blindingly bright sun. 

“Space, Dave! I have mastery over showing up in places,” she said. She and John looked at each other and raced for the passenger side door. 

You relegated them both to the backseat and Jade cranked up the top 40s pop station. John spun her around at bag check and she lifted you off your feet with her hug. He sniffled all the way back to the car and all the way home, up the stairs and onto the couch. You brought him a glass of water and sat next to his head on the ground while he talked you through his redesign of Jade’s chaotically beautiful drinking game, optimized for ease of future play. Forty-six minutes later he was braiding tiny plaits into your hair, old episodes of Buffy on in the background, when your phone buzzed.

twinArmaggedons [TA] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] 

TA: what, diid vanta2 conviince you that thii2 2hiit was a good iidea?

TA: ii thought we’d all learned our le22on about talkiing two tho2e a22hole2

TG: eh it was some urgent shit 

TG: had to get solved somehow 

TG: moebius double reacharound time loop clone castaway method won out 

TA: plea2e, 2hare everythiing about how thii2 came two be 

TA: you have my rapt attentiion

TG: oh baby keep talking that sarcasm to me 

TG: im dripping just thinking about how much irony and biting remarks we can cram into my shitty apology 

TG: a sad last minute valentines card of an apology 

TG: left out in the rain and shoved through the slits in some kids locker after their ma complained to the school that they didnt get any 

TG: its a real sitcom moment unfolding here

TG: all that to say 

TG: i fucked up and then i never apologized 

TG: and that was probably worse than the original fuckup 

TG: and i deserve a whole fucking asshole of lectures from karkat 

TG: way more than i got 

TG: so im all yours 

TG: for whatever you wanna say 

TA: and u2 cool kiids get 2uch a bad rep for beiing unevolved and clo2ed off emotiionally 

TG: dave strider, posterchild for stability and being cool in all situations

TA: phy2iically youre faiirly 2table 

TA: iif iim rememberiing correctly 

TG: yeah ive got just enough jock stereotype in me to properly fuck a guy against a wall 

TG: you know something i really dont miss about talking to you 

TG: how ii want two 2tart typiing liike thiis 

TG: and i cant tell if its a language virus or stockholm syndrome 

TA: iit2 actually a computer viirus 

TA: eventually your machiine wiil 2tart autocorrectiing everythiing two my partiicular vernacular 

TA: iid venture 2o far a2 two 2ay iitd be an iimprovement on your current iinternet per2ona 

TG: my leet speak can never progress past its current point 

TG: im already becoming an ancient relic of a previous civilization 

TG: ill never be your war games wet dream 

TG: well never type on the same keyboard and chase a perp down in second life 

TG: hate to see it end this way but thats moribundity 

TA: a real word iinstead of twiitter 2lang 

TA: mu2t ii rush two your bed2iide to record your fiinal moment2 on thii2 planet

TG: just pull the plug man

TG: hop on the euthanasia train 

TA: 2uch a biizare fuckiing 2peciie2 you all are 

TG: were here to drool over 300 not live it 

TA: a2 are we all now, wiith karkat at the helm 

TG: as much as im enjoying shooting the shit 

TG: which was not entirely sarcasm before we start that shit up again 

TA: you dont feel 2uffiiciiently flogged for you mii22deeds? 

TG: no

TG: shit 

TG: you dont owe me anything 

TG: floggings or acceptance of apologies 

TG: im not here for either

TG: i just need you to know that i mean it 

TG: i was a massive pissbaby cockfuck and i know that and i know this isnt even sufficient 

TG: were a bizarre fucking species 

TG: and i shouldnt have cared what anyone else was going to say 

TG: and it wasnt you 

TG: that 

TG: i was ashamed of 

TG: youdve thought idve lived enough lives to have grown the fuck up already 

TA: eh

TA: we probably made better fuckbudiie2 than boyfriiend2 anyway2 

TG: well then buckle the fuck up captor

TG: because i shoulda fucked you in the middle of the quad at high noon

TG: in times square on every monitor

TG: is what im saying 

TA: you were a con2ii2tently good lay, 2triider 

TA: you’ve got that goiing iin your favor 

TG: in what quadrant would fuckbuddies fall 

TA: hone2tly the concept on alterniia ii2 not even fuckiing worth explaiiniing

TA: iill maiil you karkats moviies on the 2ubject and you can attempt two enjoy them

TG: egberts got a lady over most nights 

TG: will these films set the proper romantic mood 

TG: either by getting the pair of goobers into a gushy mood or by terrifying the ladylove into egberts arms with excessive bloodshed

TA: well theyre all pornography, iif that2 what you’re a2kiing 

TA: iit wa2 goiing two be a biig reveal when you went two watch them wiith other2 and there wa2 2uddenly aliien geniitaliia iin ultra hd 

TG: how nasty are we talking here

TA: were talkiing not approved for wiide relea2e 

TA: ma22 burnings

TA: the kiind of pornography that2 2o raw and graphiic iit enciite2 rebelliion and revolutiion. 

TG: well fuck better slow our roll right here

TG: egberts braiding my hair and can undoubtedly read this over my shoulder 

TA: tell hiim he2 iinviited iif he2 wiiliing to bring driink2

TG: hes already tipsy so i think hes good for the hookup

TA: day driinkiing? cla22y a2 alway2. 

TA: what2 the occa2iion? 

TG: fuckin this, probably 

TG: also jade was briefly in town

TA: yet another doomed romance 

TA: pretty 2ure at 2ome poiint nepeta had you and jade on her 2hiipiing wall 

TG: as long as it wasnt rose and i 

TG: we can get into some incestuous sibling bonding but wed prefer to keep it on the dl 

TG: no one else understands the depths of freudian irony involved in my ectosibling and i getting it well and truly on 

TA: youd make a beautiiful couple and mo2t liikely bu2t a ga2ket iin karkat2 braiin 2omewhere 

TA: why not break all human taboo2 whiile youre at iit 

TG: are you free to code the website for that goldmine 

TG: the student must become the master 

TG: ill put bro out of business with the most impudent fetish films

TA: iim not cheap 

TG: send me some samples and well see if we can make a deal 

TA: yeah iil 2ee when ii can get around to iit 

TA: were you thiinkiing the 2ame ae2thetiic a2 your comiic2 

TA: cliipart abound, autoplay 2ong2, gliitery giif2 

TA: or 2treamliined, miiniimalii2t, clean liine2 up untiil 2omeone2 fluiid2 2tart 2pla2hiing?

TG: i just cant choose when presented with two equally horrific and intriguing options 

TG: let me just consult oracle

TG: pull that open on my house-sized macintosh and ask jeeves 

TA: 2o ii actually need two go 

TA: 2ome 2tupiid work emergency ii can’t beg out of 

TA: let me know when you’ve commiitted two a creatiive diirectiion and we’ll 2ee how iit goe2

TG: has your beeper number changed since last time 

TA: the emergency blowjob liine iis ready and open 

TG: you cant leave a guy hanging with an offer like that 

TG: gonna be tenting my jeans all afternoon 

TG: and strider men dont really camp 

TA: whatever wiil you tell egbert 

TG: id have to start from the ground up with the birds and the bees talk 

TG: think ill just hobble around the house with an embroidered pillow in front of my groin 

TG: anyways later 

TG: thanks 

TA: fuckiin took you long enough 

twinArmaggedons [TA] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] 

You closed out of the Pesterchum app on your phone. Cordelia screamed on the tv and shook herself free of maggots. The space heater hummed in the corner. John finished untangling a braid in your hair and you laid your head back on the couch, bumping against his shins. You watched him watch you, all anxious fidgeting fingers putting each strand of your hair back in place and confused smile. You closed your eyes and wondered if he could tell with your glasses on. He usually could. 

He squished your nose down with his index finger and you crossed your eyes trying to trace the lines of his fingerprint. Oz asked Willow if she planned on joining the world of computer suits. Sollux, far enough away to be anywhere, adjusted his keyboard and got to work explaining some esoteric concept in his rasping lisp. John leaned into his elbow, sinking into the armrest. You wondered if he was trying to decide how close to get to you. 

“I never had a career day at my high school. Of all the lies teen dramas told me, this might be the most egregious,” he said, and you closed your eyes again. 

“We’re just chicks in a nest to the capital-education complex. There to nurture us just long enough to make us dependent on structure before they shove us out of the nest. They never taught me to fly, John.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked, and you felt him shifting behind you. 

“Not sure yet. You’re kind of a shit cushion, dude.” 

He laughed, and suddenly his legs were on either side of you, bracketing you in. He picked your head up and maneuvered it carefully further back onto the couch cushion. You knocked your knees out into his from where they were drawn up near your chest. He tugged lightly at the hair behind your ear. You tried to imagine how you looked. Like some dramatic Renaissance triptych, surely. You tried to look forward, to see what the other two panels were, but the future was cloudy and full of static. You opened your eyes. 

“You can’t trust the television, dude. It’s all cable network nudity and infomercials,” you said. “So we were fucking and I took a sharp left turn into the bro-no-homo ‘verse and fell headfirst into complete dickbagitude.” 

John snorted. “You and the tv? That seems pretty dangerous, dude. You’re lucky you survived with your stuff intact. Do you think you can still have kids?” 

You sighed. “Dunno, Johnny Boy. This might be the end of the great Strider lineage right here. Bro knee-deep in puppet dong, eternally celibate, and David expiring sexlessly between your legs. Electronics and the human form were never meant to mix.” 

“Awe damn, that means I’ll have to return that bionic arm I got you for Christmas,” John said, and shifted around behind you. 

You held out both arms and looked them over. “Are you saying I’m in need of a remodel? Do my limbs not please you? I guess they’re a little shabby, but they’ve been to literal hell and back. Dunno if I can ditch ‘em so easy.” 

“Dave,” he told you, “you have your own brain in a jar. Don’t even pretend like you wouldn’t have Jade’s Grandpa taxidermy both of your arms for you.” 

You dropped them heavily to the floor. “John. My arms. They’ve both broken. Get the chainsaw. You’ll have to amputate.” 

He bent over and took your wrist in one hand, pulling it with him as he sat up. He rotated it, poking at your elbow and pinching your biceps. “Paging Dr. Maryam, we’ve got a medical emergency. Dave doesn’t understand how arms work anymore, it might be neurological.” He put your arm back down and let the sounds of vampire slaying fill up the lapse in the conversation. Cordelia was back on screen, drenched and grumpy. 

“Hey, Dave.” John tapped your temple. “I get that not telling me about Sollux was, yknow, complicated. I just. Yknow Jade is on a plane to Seoul and Rose is at Stanford and you’re here! And I guess not knowing made me feel far away from you. I already miss them like crazy. Like, we only got a couple hours with Jade and I can already feel how far away she is. Do you get that too? Like you can feel in your stomach where the three of us are? I can’t decide if it feels like we spent years together or years apart but I guess it really sucks that they aren’t here now.” He leaned back into the couch and you could see his shoulders pull in. His right hand rubbed absently at his knee. He bit the inside of his cheek. “I get it. It just also hurt my feelings a little bit. I know that’s not your fault. I guess I just mean that I love you a lot dude, and not knowing what’s up with you feels like I’m missing out on something big.” He sucked his lower lip in between his teeth and exhaled through his nose. 

For all of your jokes, and for all of everyone else’s, and for his constant presence like some demented shadow, your feelings about Bro are really fucking hard for you to untangle. In 22 years you’ve felt the damn gamut about him. You’ve seen his corpse and you’ve seen him resurrected and you still can’t decide if you love him. You can’t settle on just how shitty he really was as a guardian. You can say this, though – he wasn’t big on feelings, or personal closeness, or tears or saying “I love you.” You’re confident, especially now, that this was one thing he left you woefully unprepared for, and one way he let you down. You stare down this open emotion, these quiet moments between important words where you’re expected to say something worth something, and you have nothing You’re bad at affection and bad at conversation and sometimes you really fucking wish you weren’t. 

You pulled your head up off the couch and kissed John’s knee where his fingers drew anxious circles. You paused for 0.4 seconds and kissed his hand too. It was a pretty fucking weird response, but it was what you had, and you trusted that he would get it. You slid down all the way onto the floor and raised your glasses, for a second, to look at John head-on. 

“I’m a pretty boring dude, Egbert. I feed my jarred brain and stop time like everyone else. Not much to miss out on.” You put your glasses back down and slapped his calf, then got to your feet. “If I say ‘no homo’ now, does that ruin this whole moment?” 

John laughed, really actually laughed, exhausted and refreshed all at once. A gust carried it all the way to you, smelling like chlorine, John’s eyes like a swimming pool under the scorching and empty Texas blue sky. 

“Just tell everyone I’m still drunk, if they ask.” 

That Friday, a text came in from Eleanor asking if you DJ’ed for private parties. John couldn’t stop talking about how good you were, she explained, and he thought you would be flattered if she asked personally instead of having him ask. You told her there was no better hype man and you should really start paying him a gig acquisition fee. She told you it was for her sorority, and he would only need to do an hour set and then she and John would be there partying late and you should totally stay. 

John got you in the truck thirty minutes before you were supposed to be at a location that was, at worst, a twelve minute drive away. 

“Spill, dude. You look like you got dosed with Smilex. You planning an exposé on the horrors of the Greek system and this is your perfect cover?” 

“Dude, no! I’m just excited that you guys get along so well. And we get to play Jade’s drinking game tonight, and you and I are gonna crush it. And on top of that, you’re gonna blow the second musical act out of the water.” 

You shook your head. “Fuckin’ rich kids, John, you can’t trust ‘em. Affording two separate musical acts for a Friday night party. Exposé away with my blessing. Go full Revenge of the Nerds on ‘em.” You paused. “But don’t, that movie’s actually really shitty and sexist.” 

John bopped along to the shitty country on the campus station. “So suspicious, Dave! Highly suspicious. Highly suspicious of you,” he said, and rolled the window down. 

You figured, if he really wanted, he could bend the wind rushing through the opening around him. Create an orb of dead air and watch the cars stream by unharmed. He hung his head out the window, hair and clothes blown asunder. 

“Neighborhood superstitions passed you by. That’s how you experience premature decapitation,” you told him, and brought the car to a stop. He hopped out and waited for you to exit and come around to his side before responding. 

“Every decapitation is premature. That’s why your brains stays alive for a couple seconds after.” He wiggled his fingers and made ghost noises. 

“Every Friday is a Freaky Friday with you. Don’t open a fortune cookie or we’ll be bodyswap jerking each other off,” you told him. 

“Premature ejaculation.” John said, and nodded sagely. 

The sorority house looked nothing like you were expecting. It was surprisingly crowded for how early you’d arrived and John weaved his way through the crowds until you found the living room and the repurposed beer pong table reserved for your gear. You hoisted the few things you’d felt comfortable risking in the close-to-drunk-people-who-might-bodyslam-the-table environment and John absconded back into the hallway. Everything around you looked like an upscale version of something from one of John’s IKEA catalogues. The sorority girls, it looked like, were all in matching tee-shirts, but they were otherwise varied in appearance. It bolstered you a bit, not being surrounded by people who would eventually all blend together an hour into your set. John wandered back in three minutes before the official start of the party with Eleanor in tow and disappeared again almost immediately to help some dudes in the kitchen with a keg. 

“I’ve got something in mind, but if there are any hard passes on music type you should let me know,” you told her. 

She smiled at you and took her hair out of its scrunchie. “All party music, right? You’re not going to prank us with, like, German death metal?” 

You held your hands up in front of you. “Can’t have two pranksters in one family. That’s all on John. Basic party music.” 

“Oooh, one thing. Nothing with any swearing, right? We’re all ages here.” 

You made the sign of the cross and bowed. “Oh, it’s exclusively Kidz Bop.” 

She laughed and took a red solo cup from a girl who seemed to have materialized out of a cluster of balloons in the doorway. “Emma, Dave is our DJ for the night.” She nodded towards you and the girl looked you up and down. 

“Got it. John’s guy?” 

She laughed again. “Yeah. Full disclosure, Dave, John heard our first guy dropped out last minute and pretty much insisted.” 

Emma half-smiled at you and clicked her nails against the doorframe. “Turns out a few of the girls have seen you at that house place downtown and were all for it.” 

“John’s a helluva pimp. Got a hot tip on making my ass marketable.” Emma did not laugh. 

“Ellie can get you a drink,” she told you, and dematerialized. 

Eleanor grinned apologetically at you. “She’s just kind of like that. Did you want something, or?” 

You waved a hand. “Nah, I’m chill. Just give the go signal and I’ll drop those fat beats.” 

And drop those fat beats you did. Phat, of course, with a “ph”. The house filled rapidly, college kids bursting the wallpaper at the seams. The flood continued for a good thirty-four minutes before slowing to what you’d cautiously categorize as a trickle. At nine the sorority ladies had hit the lights and turned your headquarters into a glittering disco. Sisters bounced in and out carrying trays of Jell-o shots and the couples on the makeshift dancefloor got increasingly pornographic. Fifty-two minutes in you made the executive decision to mix only songs you found apropos of the situation. The irony of your choices, you were sure, was entirely lost on the crowd. 

You let the cheap, twirling spotlights and the comfort of your tables under your fingers lure you into a trance. The remaining sixty-eight minutes flew by in a fuzz of shitty thumping speakers, spilled beer, and the odd partygoers who found it hilarious to try and fuck with the DJ. You got your shit packed and stowed safely in the truck and were met back at the front door by two of Ellie’s sisters. They each grabbed an elbow and steered you towards the back. 

“It’s Dave, right? That’s your real name?” The girl with your right arm had black hair that grazed the top of her ass and a voice that made you think of Tinkerbell. 

“We’ve seen you at Haus. You’re pretty good with your hands.” The girl with your left had an undercut dyed bright pink and styled into a floppy mohawk. 

“Figured I’d have to make it big before such a high-profile kidnapping,” you told them, pulled along as they dodged shotskis and awkward fist pumping. “Manson girls or Patty Hearst?” 

The one on your right bumped you with her hip and spun around to pull you faster, walking perilously backwards. “We’re on a mission. Doctor’s orders!” 

“Well fuck, I left my Eyes Wide Shut mask at home. How will the Master ever forgive me.” 

“John and Ellie need you,” the one on the left told you. 

“Egbert’s a persuasive guy. Was it the puppy dog eyes, or his total lack of suave chill?” You asked. It seemed impossible to extricate yourself without causing some grievous degree of offense, and as willing as you were to make a run for it, you figured John would fill your toothpaste tube with mayo for being rude. 

They both laughed and deposited you in a second living room. A den, your brain supplied, and then supplied you with an image of massive gilt armchairs and taxidermy bears, slaughtered by the dick in the yellow coat from Tarzan. Unsurprisingly, this was incorrect. More IKEA, more fuzzy pillows and throw rugs, and right in the center a roughly even mix of dudes and chicks with a pack of playing cards. 

You left your escorts behind and moved further into the room, nearly tripping over the little ledge that sunk it lower than the rest of the house. You stood on the fringe, slotted your hands into your pockets, and leaned back against the wall by a decorative plastic plant. Left girl traversed the sea and pulled Eleanor out from some invisible depths. She pointed to you and Eleanor beckoned you over. You peeled yourself back up and let her draw you into the circle. A cluster of dudes moved out of your way and you sat down next to her. 

“Did I miss you and Egbert’s coronation as Sorority Queen and Frat King?” 

She shrugged, grinning. “I have no idea how he got everyone so excited about this game either.” 

“He’s too friendly. Behind that smile’s evil,” you said, and she shrugged again. 

“Guess I like bad boys then.” 

She was drunk, definitely. You figured almost everyone in attendance was. You could smell it when she swayed closer to you as she spoke, conspiratorially. Her eyes were a little too wide as she continued and her skin a little too hot where her arm nudged yours. When Rose drank, used to, she’d get this gleam in her eyes, like the center of all that swirling purple maelstrom was a dying supernova. Like all of her would glow and burn up from the inside out and you’d fall, forever, into the green sun. 

She was still talking and you tried to fill in the dialogue you’d missed. She’d gotten impressively far into a topic you still weren’t entirely confident you’d grasped. One of the bros a few feet away knocked his friend into the table with the cards and a flurry of spades showered down around you. They fell in tight little slow-motion spirals and you felt around, trying to figure out when you’d cranked down time. An ace twirled down gently and landed on your knee. The bro dusted himself off, guffawing, and Eleanor kept talking. A pair of forearms locked themselves around your neck from behind. 

“Dave,” John whispered, warm and smelling for all the world like pine and rugged cliff-side breeze, “I promise to try not to bust your eardrums tonight. Is this quiet enough for your delicate sensibilities?” 

You turned your head and yelled. “What’s that sonny? Grandpa lost his hearing aid again?” 

He cracked up against your cheekbone, shoving his nose into your eye socket. “Why’d I ever bust you out of the nursing home?” 

He planted both hands firmly on your shoulders and vaulted onto the couch, landing hard and half on your lap. Your wrist clicked under his ass and his sneaker bounced off your shin. 

“He’s beauty, he’s grace, he’s Miss United States,” you told him. He took his glasses off, cleaned them with the hem of your shirt, and mimed what you thought was supposed to be a curtsy, still twisted into a pretzel between you and the girl crushed against the armrest. 

“I accept this tiara on behalf of the Academy, and all those who came before, and the Ectocooler that made this possible.” 

Eleanor leaned over you to ask John about Jade’s game and you realized he’d landed you in the middle of the two of them. He stood up and directed the cadre around you to huddle up. They hedged you in and it became clear there would be no easy way to rectify your accidental trapping. Three cards each were handed out and John sat back down next to you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he attempted to explain the never-ending list of rules to the decidedly un-sober crew. 

He leaned behind you to confer with Eleanor. The room pulsed with bodies, crushing into the kitchen and out onto the patio, grinding and yelling and all lit in flashes by long strings of hanging lights and the bright white of the fridge opening and closing. His shoulder pressed against yours and you shifted to better take some of his weight as they chatted. 

The game began in earnest when another frat bro got a little too close to the arena and John, laughing, decided they’d better hop to it while they still had a chance. You sprawled back on the couch, content to be a bystander for the shenanigans. John, it seemed, had folded in Truth or Dare as well. The rowdiness increased tenfold. It was like watching the ringleader of a particularly bizarre circus. The dark-haired girl from earlier took a shot out of another girl’s bra and a trio of bros tried to recreate a cheerleading pyramid. A guy you vaguely recognized dared John to do a handstand and you snuck out while he was upside down. The bathroom was blissfully empty and you hopped onto the counter and pulled out your phone.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] 

TG: yo harley 

TG: your glorious clusterfuck of a drinking game has been whipped out at a sorority rager

TG: youre living all your lost college dreams through us

TG: getting all manner of wasted and impudent in one of americas grossest and longest standing traditions 

TG: about to get inaugurated into the bro hall of fame

TG: your brothers all grown up 

TG: about to start a friendship and jäger cult 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] 

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: Your arrival online has forced my hand in delivering this message. 

TT: “Red Lantern, this is a party, which means you gotta go out and kiss some faces and break some hearts and bust a move. AKA, drop the phone and shake it! Love, the rest of the Lantern Corps.” 

TG: you find that written on some ancient tablet in your erotica research and figure no one but me could encapsulate the grace and elegance of red lantern

TG: which is not one person but a group of minor characters 

TG: what an anonymous bad boy dave strider is 

TT: Every so often the prophets of old will lend us some genuine wisdom.

TT: And am I not, after all, my brother’s keeper? 

TG: weve come so far from the true old ones 

TG: soured by lovecrafts rampant racism 

TG: stuck in a world where all we can worship is shaggy 2 dope and ourselves

TG: when youre a god, rose, masturbation is the same as going to church

TT: It’s ever so convenient none of us were particularly spiritual before we created our own universe and shattered the more conventional religious models. 

TT: Shall we discuss the theological implications of the game or should I let you get back to your soiree?

TG: pulled the short straw on that one and got none of moms entertaining skills

TG: youd think a strider could handle his liquor 

TG: but one glass of peach schnapps and im pole dancing in front of a police officer

TT: If only I’d attended more college gatherings I’d have understood that the proper way to consume schnapps is straight and out of a glass. 

TG: i dont want to say youre behind the times 

TG: but all those scenes where your wizards get blackout and fuck are now moot 

TG: your audience is slavering at their screens at your lack of attention to detail 

TT: How cruel to both of us then that I continue to commandeer all your attention and keep you from researching proper binge-drinking in the wild. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door and you turned the sink on.

TG: this fleshfest is about to turn into a real bloodbath 

TG: someones trying to break down the bathroom door 

TG: any minute now ill be overwhelmed by toga zombies

TG: chomping down that dave steak and chanting about football

The toga zombie kicked the door. “Hey Raphael! Master Splinter’s got an emergency!”

TG: well fuck there goes my typing hand 

TG: sucked right down the gullet 

TG: see you on the other side 

tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 

You opened the door to John’s shit-eating grin. 

“I can’t be the slickest turtle in the Tristate area and the shittiest Green Lantern plot point simultaneously, dude. How many pop culture references are you gonna forcefeed me? MTV foie gras on a gilt platter of terrible comedy.” 

“I’ll buy you an egg McMuffin to make up for it. Your liver’s gonna be perfect,” he said, and stepped forward and onto your toes. 

“Liver’s not for sale. Gonna have to make me a hell of a deal for the kidneys. Bad boys are working overtime to purify my bodily sins,” you told him, and flexed your toes in your shoes. “Having prom flashbacks? Need me to swing you around on my feet to REM because you never learned how to waltz but want to get down to a slow jam?” 

He stepped back and looked at your shoes, then back up at your face. “Is this how you dressed for your actual prom? I expected more velvet.” 

John pulled you towards him, narrowly dragging you out of the path of a guy rushing into the bathroom behind you. “I think I just saved your prom suit from a lot of vomit, dude.” 

You dusted off your shoulders and appraised him. “I think some Mike’s Hard Puke could improve yours. Stars or die, dude.” 

Eleanor appeared at John’s side. “Dave! Sorry you guys have to leave so early. Your songs were awesome though!” She bumped against him and rested her head on his shoulder. 

“Left the fireplace on. Too many irons to leave it unattended,” you said, and John laughed. She rolled her head back to look up at him and he smiled down at her, pecked her on the lips. 

“Bathroom’s full, but if y’all need to get your mack on before we bounce I can hold up a towel and shield you from the voyeurs.” 

She scrunched up her nose and looked at you, pressing closer against John. “I’ve always been so afraid of hidden cameras. No way I’m sleeping tonight.” She looked back at him and twisted around to face him fully, pulling loosely at the laces in his Capitals jersey. “Too bad I don’t have a big strong dude to keep me safe.” 

John laughed and put his arm around her. “If only. Now Dave’s gonna spend the whole night kicking my ass at SSX 3 and asking me if I feel like a big strong dude yet.” 

Someone called John’s name from the strobing enormity of the sorority house and he swiveled to wave and yell back. Eleanor watched him. She wasn’t sad, and she wasn’t angry. Her face was doing something you couldn’t quite see. She slid her hand down his side, to his thigh, and waved three fingers at John’s friend. She looked back at you, briefly, and looked away again. 

She walked you to the door, hand in John’s. He spun her around on the sidewalk in front of the house and dipped her, humming Singing in the Rain the whole time. 

“Goodnight, Miss Rogers! Until we meet again,” he sang, and you thought that under the haze of alcohol she blushed even redder. “Gotta blast.” 

You covered your eyes with your hand. “Cmon, Cinderella Neutron. Your loyal footman’s gotta have you home by midnight.” 

He set her upright and she pulled him back in for another kiss. You got in your truck.

gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] 

GG: john!!!! 

GG: you played it!!!

GG: tell me you won or ill have to immediately disown you >:( 

EB: jade!!!!

EB: of course i won

EB: that’s why they call me gamemaster egbert 

EB: (although i don’t actually think drinking games have winners and losers)

EB: i reckon i could even put up a fight against you next time! 

GG: :O :O :O :O :O

GG: john!!!!

GG: thats a terrible habit of starting fights you cant possibly win

GG >:D

EB: have at thee! 

EB: it’s a classic underdog tale 

EB: i couldn’t be more confident 

GG: speaking of confidence...

GG: tell me everything about this new lady!!! 

GG: have you made a move yet 

GG ;) ;) 

GG: did the wild rumpus inspire wild feelings in you ;) ;)

EB: all your winks are sadly for not 

EB: i’d never kiss and tell 

GG: with that attitude john you can never hope to best me 

EB: guess you’ll have to wait until we play to get all the sexy secrets

EB: heh heh heh

GG: john this is cruel and unusual!!! 

GG: youre lucky im about to lose service 

GG: ill pry it out of you just you wait!!

GG: lovvvvvve you <3

EB: <3 <3 !! 

gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [GG] 

TG: hey fred astaire

TG: where you blasting off to next

TG: we foxtrotting at the science museum 

EB: bluh bluh bluh talk it up hotshot 

EB: i could sweep you off your feet in a second and you know it 

TG: well youve got that tiny spaceship and that gravity defying hairdo

TG: its a moot point to even argue

TG: of all the crosses i could pick to die on 

EB: the air is unreal! 

EB: we’re escaping from above! 

EB: come and dance in the poorly rendered shitty clipart stars with me 

EB: be my blingee valentine 

TG: woah better watch out there bud 

TG: your ladys gonna be mighty upset if youre asking someone else to be your valentine

TG: next thing you know youre gonna take us both out to a fancy restaurant and switch tables 

TG: like a broken robot trying to obey simultaneous conflicting input

TG: pretending youve got the shits just to abandon me during dessert and order entrees with her 

EB: aw, you ruined our entire thursday plan! 

EB: what am i gonna do with this earpiece and trenchcoat now? 

EB: guess i’ll use that two-for-one coupon all by myself 

TG: careful with that trenchcoat 

TG: you might turn out to be two kids stacked on top of each other 

EB: good thing i wasn’t planning a nightcap after dinner 

EB: trying to sleep with both of you at once would be super age inappropriate for nine year old me clones 

TG: age inappropriate for 21 years of egbert 

TG: you dont even know its called a threesome

TG: oh fuck what have i done to your virginal ears 

TG: quick get the brain bleach 

EB: i bet you twenty bucks i’ve had more adventurous sex than you

EB: hold on i take it back

EB: i bet you as many egg McMuffins as the two of us can carry out of the store without bags that i’ve had more adventurous sex than you 

TG: youre fucking on 

TG: 8pm

TG: mickey ds

TG: get ready for ronald to experience your shame

EB: ;) ;) ;) 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [GG] 


	4. Chapter 4

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 

EB: good news for ronald, bad news for you

EB: good news, he doesn’t have to watch us gorge ourselves on greasy chemical meat and have to be wheeled out of his establishment

EB: bad news, you don’t get to pass out in a food coma flipping off a traumatized kids mascot 

TG: not surprised we fell on opposite sides of the divide

TG: dude and i cant agree on shit 

TG: why would breakfast ever not be all day 

TG: dude never had our best interests at heart

EB: there’s this slam poetry tournament tonight that one of ellie’s favorite authors is judging

EB: and since we sort of massively bailed on the party 

EB: i totally owe it to her to go and break our caloriefest date 

TG: yeah what was up with that 

TG: like a bat out of hell 

TG: you from the nights events 

TG: did someone start playing how do i live without you and you had to race away to hide your nic cage tears

EB: it’s a fresh wound! 

TG: a 21 year old fresh wound 

EB: yeah because i watched it the year it was released 

EB: as a tiny tot straight out of utero 

TG: yeah utero because we were conceived the traditional way 

TG: with dads hardon and moms lady boner 

TG: coming together in an earth-shattering union that flung us out from aforementioned utero like supermans escape pod 

TG: crash landing in their loving arms in the hospital where we were delivered by a doctor 

EB: ugh 

EB: dude rose is gonna be so disappointed that you mentioned our parents genitalia and denied your siblinghood in one fell swoop

EB: all for the sake of the joke 

TG: live by the joke die by the joke 

EB: she’ll be even more bummed out when she thinks about your conception 

EB: bro slaving over his smuppets day and night 

EB: molding you out of foam and katanas

EB: bringing you to life in the middle of a freak lightning storm in houston 

TG: that was a low blow

EB: ride or die dude 

EB: (heh heh heh)

TG: all this fancy footwork to distract from my question 

TG: its cool that you started sobbing at the thought of trisha poe

TG: you gotta do you and express yourself 

EB: you’re kind of a dummy dude

EB: we left because you went and hid in the bathroom 

EB: and i figured it was my duty as best bro to spirit you away 

TG: a man cant share an intimate moment with a cold tile floor and a strangers toilet 

EB: communing with nature? 

EB: i’m not having fun if you’re not having fun 

EB: and you’re way more fun when you’re not talking to the toilet

TG: i dont know that you can imagine the relationship we have

TG: and im miserable so guess that means so are you 

TG: gonna go scrub with steel wool until i can look at myself in the mirror and not see bro franken-fucking me into existence

EB: mary shelley rolls in her grave! 

TG: o that this too too solid flesh would melt

EB: hey dave

EB: i think it’s kind of adorable how un-ironically you love Shakespeare

TG: get thee to a nunnery johnathan

TG: the sisters are overdue on getting traumatized by your sex lectures

EB: sex is beautiful and natural dave 

EB: here, let me show you this educational cartoon 

TG: im out 

EB: you’re such a big baaaaaaby dude

EB: if we watch kenneth branaugh’s hamlet tonight will you cheer up 

TG: we sneaking in your ipod and sharing earbuds to watch during the poetry slam 

TG: or projecting that baby 

TG: full-screen over the performers 

EB: oh fuck! 

EB: you should come!

EB: find the next target for your rap battles

TG: you ready for me to throw down in the middle of the competition 

TG: pull a teen movie and dance off in the final climactic moment 

TG: it weighs on my conscience cockblocking you like that 

TG: but when its time to throw down its time to throw down

EB: i don’t know a single person who wouldn’t be thrilled to see you interrupt a poetry night with convoluted raps about night terrors and 90s trivia

TG: was that sarcasm 

EB: maybe 

EB: :B

EB: but for real, you should come

EB: ellie totally thinks you’re cool 

EB: it’ll be fun 

TG: well see where im at once the hour of rocking back and forth remembering childhood puppet trauma is over

EB: see you at six! 

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 

You were pretty sure that crashing this date was a bad idea. Maybe 67, 78% a bad idea. You were fairly confident in this as you got ready. You were incredibly confident in this as you parked and tossed your keys from hand to hand, anxiously, as you walked inside. The place was a coffee joint a few minutes from the main campus; you’d seen it in passing but had never been inside. A few straggling customers were spread out at the tiny tables and a gaggle of teens bottlenecked at a pair of double doors towards the back of the little shop. A giant neon arrow sign pointed you in their direction. You followed. John was just that kind of guy. 

Through the doors was a collection of colorful couches, rugs, and wall art. A tall bald dude was chatting with another small group as he ran cables for the sound setup. An ancient-looking wooden table near the entry hawked chips and sodas. The whole place hummed. 

You heard him before you saw him. He just had that kind of laugh. Easy to pick out of a crowd. It rose above the hum, and for a second the conversations burbling around you rose too, to meet his laugh in pitch. He was leaning casually against the south wall, beaming and gesturing to a girl in a shimmering gold hijab. 

He was in dark jeans and a white t-shirt, and you wanted to walk over, ask him where his windbreaker was, if he was a rebel with or without a cause, but your voice got caught somewhere in the line he drew as he shifted, legs bent slightly at the knee, shoulders sloping down his back to meet his hips. His sternum, his ribs, his belly button, an outie, you knew that, invisible even under the thin cotton but so glaringly there, glued your sneakers to the poured concrete. A host of LEDs ringing the room flipped on and cast him in pink and yellow, filling in his outline with warm and shifting shadows. 

You were suddenly pretty sure this wasn’t the worst idea. 

“Dave?” 

You swiveled, ankles forcing your feet free, and looked at Eleanor. Her hair was pulled up, bright spirals blooming up to the sky. 

“Are you… Performing? Or…?” 

“Nah, never really got a hang of poetry. 8 Mile or bust.” 

She looked back at you. You both looked over at John, engrossed in his conversation, he and the girl glittering in the refracted light. You looked back at Eleanor. A nose stud you’d never noticed sparkled back at you. You noticed her freckles, darker but sprinkled across her nose and cheeks like yours, and how radiant her skin was under the purple LED, and suddenly everything felt too bright, and too immediate, and you closed your eyes behind your shades and tried to breathe. 

Her fingers grazed your shoulder, lightly. “Dave?” 

You gave her your best approximation of your regular smile, _barely a smile at all, dude_ , and shrugged. “James Dean over there dragged me along. I can appreciate a slam. More of a Neruda man, though, myself.” You noticed her frown, and how it bent her whole face in consternation. “Can you point a guy in the direction of the restroom?” 

You were 100% sure that crashing their date was the worst idea. 

You beelined for the exit and sat down on the curb outside, the sun gone behind the horizon. You watched the “W” on the sign for the store across the street flicker. You tried to breathe. You closed your eyes behind your shades. You watched John, ridiculous and genial and loud and fond and so, so stupidly handsome, and you watched Eleanor frown. Eleanor, a person you realized you knew nothing about, not actually. A person with a life, and a life with John, a life you found yourself precipitously and completely lost in. One day you would need to know these things, her favorite TV shows and holidays and takeout restaurants, because this girl could be around for a long time. 

You pulled your phone out and dialed. You counted seven seconds before the line picked up. You heard her inhale. You smelled lavender. You tried to take the biggest breath possible, to saturate yourself with it, to relax. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Can’t a bro call up his sis to shoot the shit without it being a federal fucking issue?” 

You heard her smile as she spoke. “A bro could, but not this particular bro. I had thought you might be allergic to speaking over the phone.” 

“Self-improvement, Rosalind. Gotta be constantly challenging yourself.” You stood up and paced, scuffing your shoes against the pavement. “Gotta put childish things behind us and grow up.” 

“I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself, David. The brain develops until approximately twenty-five. You’ve got four solid years to grow into more mature pursuits.” 

“Gonna need to put a rush order on that one. Can’t be over here gaga on a motherfucker like it’s high school.” 

“If you’d like to discuss the drama of your romantic life, I’d be happy to put Kanaya on as well. Turn this tragedy into best-selling gold.” 

You snorted and ground a stray cigarette butt into the ground. “Can’t share that material. Planning on shocking the world with my memoir.” You picked up the cigarette and tossed it into a trash can. “We’ll split the proceeds if she ghostwrites it. Y’ever wonder how you married a writer? Do y’all fight for whose sex scenes are the most scintillating?” 

“Reading to each other is our manner of foreplay,” she said, and you groaned. “Ask and ye shall receive. Shall I give you more details?” 

“Imagine I’m making a gagging noise, and that someone walks by and hears me in the throes of my disgust, and offers to help me, and, finding me helpless, kidnaps me and brings me home to their dungeon. That’s what this leads to.” 

She snorted back at you, and you knew instantly how long it had been since you’d actually heard her laugh. Longer, even, since you’d heard it in person. One of the benefits, you supposed, of only having an ecto-sibling. Of not growing up with her, hogging the bathroom and getting into fights. You guessed that was why, now, she could be your best friend and your sister all at once, and you could miss her, desperately. 

“I’ll send all the troops in the city to ensure your safe return if you’re plucked wantonly from the streets.” 

You both went quiet and you watched the “W” again, flickering another time before the whole sign went dark, and the shop-keep pulled down the metal grill. 

“They say true friendships can endure companionable silences. As true as ours is, and as long a silence as we can endure, I’ll have to admit here to my curiosity. Who exactly has caught your middle school heart?” 

“Another secret for the memoir. Sorry, toots, it’s classified,” you told her. She laughed. “Nah, I got this. Rerouted the train from disaster.” 

She was quiet for a second and then she laughed again, softly, and you could hear the fox rain wreathing her voice. “It’s flattering to know my long-distance presence is as useful as my words in cases such as these. Torturous as well, of course, to be left hanging on the greatest cliffhanger of the century. Dave Strider doesn’t crush so easily.” 

“Well, ya see, he walked into my office and he had legs from here to forever. What’s a gumshoe to do?” 

“Follow the case to its rightful conclusion. Solve the mystery, catch the murderer, and woo the object of his affection. It’s fairly simple story structure. Dave Strider, Requiem for the Detective Novel.”

You rubbed your face with your free hand, pushing your glasses up, rubbing your eyes, and covering your smile. “Not sure about this one. Got picked up for a Netflix series and suddenly it had to get dark and gritty. Appeal to the jaded millennial masses.” 

“I suppose you’ll have to go in blind. Let your heart be your compass, and all that,” she said, and you sniffed. 

“Fuckin’ freezing out here. Gonna lose all my important bits to frostbite before we diagram this shit. Had my surveillance photos and red string rarin’ to go. Why didn’t you tell me how cold the East Coast was gonna be?” 

“I’d assumed you wanted a break from all that heat. Besides, I can’t imagine it’d take much convincing for John to join you in a more tropical climate.” 

You blew out a stream of condensation, straight up at the sky and clicked your tongue. “Dunno. Y’ever tried arguing against him? Like kicking a kitten. Got me to this fuckin’ poetry slam and everything.” You rubbed your eyes again. “Speaking of. Gonna miss the opening act. Can’t make John sit through that alone. Later?” 

“Good luck, Sergeant PI. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for.” The line clicked off and you turned the phone over in your hands. 

The coffee shop was darker when you ventured back in, the whole place strung with fairy lights. You ducked through the double doors and narrowly avoided bumping into a significantly thicker crowd. The bald man was gone at the impromptu stage and there were three people milling around the mic. Someone had put music on. You glanced around over a little lake of heads and found John and Eleanor right where you’d left him. You waded in.

You were a few steps away when you realized they were arguing; not arguing, you thought, discussing. Eleanor’s face was hidden from your view and you were suddenly deeply grateful for it. She tugged at her hairband and let her hand fall to her side before reaching over and taking John’s. You imagined he squeezed back. He smiled. He shook his head. He nodded. She pulled him over to a leather couch with the stuffing leaking out. You tried to turn away, to leave for the second time that night, when they saw you. John’s arm shot up and he waved you over, still smiling. 

The poetry was good and you bit back the urge to narrate. Talk shit like you did when you watched movies with John, filling the room with endless monotone commentary until he laughed and shoved you to the other side of the couch. Eleanor left the two of you to hug goodbyes and he dropped his head into his hands. 

You bit back the urge to reach towards him. His head popped back up and he grinned. 

“Oh man, dude. You showed up so late. Which was probably for the best. I totally bummed Ellie out earlier.” 

“Always let the lady cum first. It’s just impolite otherwise.” 

He laughed. “I’m the most gracious in bed. Y’know, Dave, you can even have great sex without both partners orgasming. It’s all about the connection.” 

You pretended to gag and he smiled, bigger. “That’s the second fucking time I’ve had to do that tonight.” 

“You finally grew up to be your role model, the 10 year old from Sleepless in Seattle! I’m so proud of you!” He said, and ruffled your hair. 

“Wouldn’t know. Don’t watch movies Karkat recommends. Have also never seen You’ve Got Mail. Oh, yeah, sorry, have also never seen Trolls Who Enjoy-Using Chatrooms Meet In One Such Chatroom And Form A Bond Over Their Love Of Literature Though They Are In Direct Competition And Begin A Dramatic Tryst That Tears-Their Families Apart.” 

“Well that one sounds like a winner. How curious you know the plot in enough depth to recount it as a troll movie.” 

You shook your head. “It’s in the zeitgeist now. Just exists in our collective consciousness, ripe and waiting to be plucked.” 

He opened his mouth to reply and suddenly Eleanor was at his shoulder, half-smiling at you. 

“Ready to go, Jay?” 

“Of course!” He hopped up and you stood, too, keeping a few feet back and stuffing your pockets with your hands. “I’m staying at Ellie’s tonight. But don’t you dare try and escape a viewing of _Young Troll Worried For His Father’s Sexual Future Embarks On A Dangerous Mission To Facilitate Cross State Romance_.” 

You hung your head down, letting your chin touch your chest, and tipped it up enough to ensure John could see your eyes in the gap between your forehead and your glasses. You rolled them. He finger-gunned you. Eleanor looked between the two of you, almost startled, and recovered. You tipped them a salute and beat a graceful retreat.

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] 

EB: hey terezi! 

EB: long time no see. 

GC: Y3SSSS

GC: Y3S JOHN 1T H4S B33N 4 WH1L3!

GC: YOU’V3 B33N OUT GETT1NG 1NTO THE K1ND OF SH3N4N1G4NS KK H4T3S

GC: 4ND 1T’S D3L1C1OUS

EB: heh heh yeah he was pretty pissed off for a while there.

EB: but i think it was actually for good reason and equally dave’s fault. 

GC: 1T’S JUST UNF41R 1 W4SN’T THERE TO W1TNESS 4 COOLK1D-GROUCH SHOWDOWN

GC: 1 WOULD’VE M4DE THE POSTERS FOR THE B1G F1GHT 

GC: 4ND S3RV3D 4S SOL3 R3F3R33 

GC: >:]

EB: can’t think of a better lady to handle the task! 

EB: you’ve got a nose for justice like mcgruff the crime dog has a nose for news! 

GC: 1 TH1NK TH1S DOG 4ND 1 WOULD GET 4LONG JUST F1NE 

GC: 4S LONG 4S H3 1S ON THE R1GHT S1DE OF CR1M3, OBV1OUSLY

GC: CROOK3D COPS W1LL W4LK THE PL4NK

EB: you, him, and smoky the bear could be the best crime-fighting team in the world 

EB: but uh, for now i actually need some advice 

EB: and i think you are the person to come to with it 

GC: H4V3 YOU B33N APPR3H3ND3D BY YOUR R1D1CULOUS 34RTH POL1C3

GC: M4YB3 YOU’R3 1N TOO D33P W1TH TH3 MOB

GC: HMMM 

GC: HMMMMMMM??

EB: nothing that exciting, sorry! 

EB: i need some romance help 

EB: and normally, yknow, karkat’s the romance guy 

EB: but you’re romancing the romance guy 

EB: so i figure you’re maybe actually a level above him here

GC: 1’V3 B33N H34R1NG TH3 3XPR3SS1ON, TH3 GR34T3ST TR1CK TH3 D3V1L 3V3R PL4Y3D W4S CONV1NC1NG TH3 WORLD H3 D1DN’T 3X1ST

GC: 4ND TH3 GR34T3ST TR1CK KK 3V3R PL4Y3D W4S CONV1NC1NG YOU CUT3 SQU1SHY HUM4NS H3 W4S GOOD 4T TH3 QU4DR4NTS

EB: heh heh heh

EB: yeah probably

EB: help me tz! you’re my only hope! 

GC: BUT F1RST

GC: WH4T L13S H4S H3 B33N T3LL1NG 4BOUT US

GC: WH4T ROM4NC3 3X4CTLY D1D H3 S4Y W3 W3R3 DO1NG

EB: well, nothing exactly! 

EB: i mean, he did say a couple things

EB: but then i was sworn to secrecy 

GC: NO SUCH TH1NG 4S 4 FR33 LUNCH, JOHNNY BOY

GC: 1 W1LL G3T YOU OUT OF YOUR DUMB JAM 1F YOU SP1LL KK’S B34NS

EB: you drive a pretty hard bargain 

EB: and i should probably tell you i only understood about 30% of what karkat told me anyways

EB: so if ye be seeking answers, ye shall not find them here! 

EB: but if you want me to pester karkat for you, i owe him one. 

GC: 1 S33 THROUGH YOUR 1NNOC3NT 3XTER1OR

GC: YOU’R3 4 H4RD-BO1L3D CONM4N JUST L1K3 THE R3ST OF US! 

GC: BUT 1N 3XCH4NG3 FOR YOU SPO1L1NG KK’S GOOD T1M3

GC: 1’LL CONS1D3R YOUR PR3D1C4M3NT! 

EB: deal! 

EB: so there’s this girl that i’ve been seeing 

EB: and overall i thought things were going pretty well! 

EB: but then she told me that she feels like i’m not actually focused on the relationship and that she’s not sure i want to be with her when i’m with her

EB: which definitely isn’t how i feel 

EB: i think she’s great! 

EB: so i think that maybe i’m missing something here

GC: W3LL YOU W3R3 R1GHT TO COM3 TO M3

GC: B3C4US3 1 4M TH3 R3S1D3NT 3XP3RT 1N N33D1N33S

GC: KK 1S SO N33DY

GC: SOOOOOOOO N33DY

GC: BUT 1F YOU’R3 GONN4 D3D1C4T3 YOUR T1M3 YOU B3TT3R B3 SUR3 YOU’R3 ON TH3 S4M3 P4G3

GC: SH3 M1GHT B3 TRY1NG TO 1NFUR14T3 YOU 1NTO B31NG H3R K1SM3S1S

EB: i think i got the impression that you guys had sort of gotten over some of that stuff

EB: i’ll see your seeing through my innocence and raise you a second called bluff! 

GC: >:]

GC: JUST B3C4US3 1’V3 4D4PT3D SO 4DM1R4BLY TO YOUR BL4ND OLD LOV3 SYST3M DO3SN’T M34N 4 L4DY C4N’T G3T HOM3S1CK

GC: M4YB3 YOU R34LLY DON’T P4Y 4TT3NT1ON TO H3R 4ND SH3’S SUPPOS3D TO B3 YOUR 4USP1ST1CE 

GC: HOW T4NGL3D 1S YOUR ROM4NT1C WEB, HMMM?

EB: i definitely did not think it was particularly complicated until right now 

EB: but let’s go with just a thank you 

GC: NOW GO G3T KK FOR M3! 

EB: will do, tz. 

GC: 4ND T3LL D4V3 1 S3ND K1SS3S

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC] 

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

EB: hey dude!

CG: YOU’RE HERE AS HER FUCKING ENVOY, AREN’T YOU? 

CG: YOU ARE THE VENGEANCE SHE’S CHOSEN TO REIGN DOWN UPON MY HUNCHED AND UNWORTHY HEAD FOR DARING TO ATTEMPT SOMETHING NEW IN OUR MISERABLE OUROBOUROS RELATIONSHIP. 

CG: PLEASE, JOHN, JUST LAY ME OUT CLEAN FOR THE SLAUGHTER RIGHT HERE. 

EB: oh man sounds like there is a lot of strong feeling brewing over here

EB: which is great because it means we can commiserate together! 

CG: IF THIS IS ALL A MASSIVE, CONVOLUTED INTRO THAT ENDS IN YOU SLAM DUNKING ME WITH ONE OF HER INSULTS I’LL BLOCK YOU FOR PROBABLY FUCKING ETERNITY. 

EB: all i promised her was that i’d bug you 

EB: i never specified how i’d bug you 

EB: so i’m bugging you in a way that also benefits me 

CG: SO CONIVING AND STUPID AND RIDICULOUS. YOU AND VRISKA WERE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER. WHY DID THAT NEVER WORK OUT. WHY DID YOU NOT JUST TURN HER HEART OF STONE TO A HEART OF GOLD AND MAKE OUT IN SOME FIELD OF FLOWERS SOMEWHERE. 

EB: crippling arachnophobia? 

CG: * HA HA HA HA HA HA HA * 

EB: has anyone ever told you that you should relax every once and a while? 

EB: have a spa day? 

CG: COULD WE MAYBE JUST HURRY THIS UP AND GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY. 

EB: pfffft 

EB: you know you love these chats 

EB: i’ll tell you all about eleanor and you’ll tell me all about terezi and it’ll be great and just like _A Classic Of World Literature Is Rewritten So That All The Characters Are High Schoolers And The Younger Of The Two Hivemates Must Trick The Elder Into A Flushed Quadrant So She Can Pursue The Love Of Her Life Without_

CG: PLEASE STOP TRYING TO TYPE THE ENTIRE TITLE. 

CG: IT’S MORE LIKE _THE MAIN GIRL IS CLUELESS_ ANYWAYS. 

EB: yeah dude that’s totally the title 

EB: ( heh heh heh )

CG: DO YOU THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE IT’S IN THE PARENTHESES I’M BLINDED TO THE WORDS?

CG: OH, LOOK AT YOU, REALLY BONDING US RIGHT THE FUCK UP WITH YOUR MOCKERY. 

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT FUCKING MOVIE I’M REFERENCING SO A DIALOGUE HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED REGARDLESS. 

EB: referencing only the greatest romantic comedy of the 90s 

EB: and paul rudd’s second best movie 

EB: but ANYWAYS

EB: so things with ellie were going really well, i thought

EB: and then we were all out at this poetry thing and she told me that she feels like i’m not present in our relationship 

EB: which sucks because i feel terrible that i made her feel like i don’t pay attention to her and don’t want to spend time with her

EB: because of course i 100% do! 

EB: so i guess i’m just trying to figure out how to communicate to her what an important part she has in my life! 

CG: DECIDING TO ENTIRELY GLOSS OVER THE FACT THAT IT’S SOME BULLSHIT YOU DECIDED TEREZI WOULD BE A MORE EFFECTIVE SHOULDER TO CRY ON THAN ME IN THIS SITUATION 

CG: WHAT EXACTLY DID SHE SAY 

CG: BECAUSE IF YOU’RE MISINTERPRETING IT AND HER REAL POINT FLEW RIGHT THE FUCK OVER YOUR HEAD THE IRONY WILL STRIKE ME DEAD AND I’LL BE ECSTATIC ABOUT IT. 

EB: well, she said that . . . 

EB: she said that she wanted to spend more time together, just us, because she didn’t feel like we were actually getting closer. 

EB: and that it felt like there was something in the way of our relationship. 

CG: OKAY, TO DERAIL THIS FIASCO BY REWINDING A BIT, WHO IS “WE ALL” AT THE POETRY THING? 

EB: me, dave, ellie. 

CG: OKAY NEXT KEY QUESTION, WERE YOU OUT ON A DATE AT THIS POINT IN TIME?

EB: yes! 

EB: it was a date to this poetry slam where her friends were performing 

EB: because dave and i had left this party her sorority was throwing last week

EB: because dave is a big ‘ole baby and hid in the bathroom 

CG: YEAH JUST IN CASE YOU NEEDED FURTHER CONFIRMATION OF TEREZI’S COMPLETE AND TOTAL FUCKING LACK OF ROMANTIC COMPETENCY 

CG: THERE’S HER DISGUSTING OBSESSION WITH STRIDER. 

CG: BUT I DIGRESS. THE NEXT REALLY KEY QUESTION HERE, EGBERT. 

CG: CORRECT ME IF I’M WRONG, BUT AREN’T DATES USUALLY JUST TWO PEOPLE, ALONE? 

CG: ACTUALLY, DON’T CORRECT ME, I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING HEAR YOUR WEIRD SMUG JOKES ABOUT SOME DUMB HUMAN WHATEVER.

CG: OR SOME ABSURD EXPLANATION FOR STRIDER’S CHARM. 

CG: OR FLIPPING YOUR TINY LITTLE WEAK PINK HUMAN HANDS AND FRITTERING AWAY ABOUT HOW SOMEHOW EVERY TIME I NEED TO REACH ONE OF YOU I JUST GET A HOLD OF THE OTHER ONE. 

CG: LIKE INEPT CARRIER PIGEONS. 

EB: hey, yknow, it’s okay if you’re jealous of dave. 

EB: he actually is pretty smooth.

EB: but i can guarantee he’s not gonna smooch terezi. 

EB: so you can rest your horns easy. 

CG: IS THIS WHAT PATRONIZING IS? 

CG: IS THIS HOW YOU ALL FEEL WHEN I REASONABLY TALK DOWN TO YOU?

EB: eh, probably yes. 

EB: i’m kinda into it though. 

EB: it’s sort of impressing how suave you are too. 

EB: i never knew best friendship could be so hostile. 

CG: YEAH WELL YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME FOR OPENING UP A WHOLE NEW WORLD OF PAIN. 

CG: OBVIOUSLY, WERE THIS ANY OF THE AFOREMENTIONED MOVIES, OR ANY OF A THOUSAND OTHER MOVIES IN THE SAME GENRE, NOW WOULD BE THE TIME TO MAKE SOME SORT OF GRAND ROMANTIC GESTURE. 

CG: EXPRESS YOUR DEVOTION AND PROVE TO HER THAT YOU’RE WILLING TO FIGHT FOR HER AND THAT YOU SEE A FUTURE TOGETHER. 

CG: PROVE THAT SHE’S AS IMPORTANT TO YOU AS ALL YOUR OTHER PRIORITIES. 

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT, JUST GO ALL OUT, REENACT THAT INANE FUCKING ANIMAL CRACKER SCENE AND IF SHE’S INTO IT, MARRY HER ON THE SPOT. JUST POP A KNEE AND PUT A RING ON IT BECAUSE SHE’S THE ONLY OTHER LOSER IN THE WORLD WHO WOULDN’T LAUGH IN YOUR FACE. 

EB: oh man, karkat. 

EB: don’t even joke about that. 

EB: that’s like, the scripture of romance basically. 

CG: I CAN’T TELL YOU HOW FURIOUS I AM THAT WE’RE NOT ACTUALLY YOUR GODS AND I CAN’T PUBLISH PROPER SCRIPTURE THAT SHITS ON EVERYTHING YOU LOVE. 

EB: so what’s up with terezi? 

CG: OH MY GOD. 

EB: it’s your turn, dude! 

EB: spill your beans. 

CG: IT’S HONESTLY NOT EVEN WORTH DISCUSSING. 

CG: IT’S SO FUCKING STUPID AND WORTHLESS. 

CG: I’M NOT TURNING INTO SOLLUX OVER HERE. 

CG: I’M NOT GOING TO WASTE MY PRECIOUS FUCKING TIME TELLING YOU ABOUT HOW SHE AND I JUST CAN’T FUCKING PICK A QUADRANT AND KEEP FLIPPING NONSTOP AND IT’S GENUINELY BATSHIT FUCKING MAGGOTS AND I’D TELL HER I LOVE HER IF SHE DIDN’T DRIVE ME SO UP THE WALL THAT I’M ENTIRELY SURE THIS IS GOING TO END IN A MURDER-SUICIDE. 

EB: definitely don’t tell me anything about that exact situation. 

EB: and i definitely won’t tell you that you should maybe just go for it. 

EB: and trust in a slightly different romantic system based on wanting to be in each others lives and enjoying it without the threat of bloodshed. 

CG: THANKS FOR THE NOTHING YOU JUST SAID AND YOU’RE WELCOME FOR THE EVERYTHING I DID SAY. 

EB: right back atcha. 

EB: later! 

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

“Alright, dude,” John began, slamming his plate down dramatically across from yours at the dining hall table, “I’ve been thinking about this nonstop. I really gotta blow her away with this one.” 

You popped a grape in your mouth. 

“And I may have briefly considered Karkat’s joke Armageddon suggestion, but it’s been scrapped for now. I want to make sure she feels like I’m listening and I care and I’m ready to be an awesome boyfriend.” 

You started building a little stack of jam packets. 

“So I thought I would make her favorite food for dinner, and then bake her a cake, which will also blow Dad’s mind, and then maybe take her out ice skating.” He looked at you expectantly. “Dave. You gotta give me some feedback here!”  
You knocked the jam tower over. “Well, dude, I got broken up with.” He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “And then, after she broke up with me, you told me it was because I didn’t dramatically swoop her up into sloppy makeouts at the celebratory pizza party for her sport victory.” 

He laughed. “Yeah, duh! Because there’s no simpler or more obvious romantic gesture than swooping up a lady in the middle of a crowded and ecstatic pizza place after she did something awesome!” 

“So by your own admission, I know nothing about this topic, and would not give you good advice.”

“Daaaave,” he said, drawing out your name and sliding down in his chair. “So obstinate. You can do this.” His smile was so goofy and exasperated you had to look away. You crumpled up your napkin and dropped it on your plate. 

“Rent out the baseball stadium, drive your car into the middle of it, kiss her on the hood, cue fireworks.” 

He slid further down and kicked you gently, drumming out a rhythm on your shins. “I’m doing my plan unless you say something in the next five seconds.” He slid up and planted his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands. 

“Alright, alright.” You threw the wadded napkin at him. “It’s wonderful. She’ll probably faint on sight. Buy her a fainting couch. I’ll make it even easier. I’ll bounce for the night, vacate the apartment, and she can faint wherever.” 

He snorted and dropped the napkin in your glass of orange juice. “Oh yeah, because my worry about her fainting would be you seeing, or her fainting in an inconvenient location. Definitely not her conking her head and us spending the night in the ER.” 

“Conking,” you said. He kept smiling. 

“Conking your noggin. It’s a real danger. Concussions are bad news. That’s a sports reference, in case you missed it.” 

You took a sip of your juice and he gave you the most horrified look you’d ever seen from someone who was also snorting. “Need help setting the table?”

“Not to cast aspersions on your talents,” he said, “but do you know how to set a table?” 

“Yeah, dude. Tiny sword is for cutting pizza, giant sword is for cutting steak.” 

That was the thing about John’s enthusiasm. It was catching. Eleanor was set to arrive in ten minutes and you were supposed to have the table set in three. If you messed up on purpose so he could laugh and redirect you, so be it. There was a pretty good chance he knew what you were doing, anyways. He handed you cheap Target dish after cheap Target dish until the table was covered, crowding out your meticulously folded paper napkins. 

John’s aversion to baked goods, you’d been surprised to learn, didn’t translate to cooking. He did it often, with a relatively high degree of skill. It was one of those things you’d never thought about until you’d moved in together and you’d seen all these facets of his domesticity that had been previously hidden. You remembered the first meal he’d made in the apartment. You’d watched him move around the kitchen, so easily and practiced, and wondered why this had imprinted on him in a way cakes never had. Wondered if Dad had taught him everything, if John started cooking for the two of them when he got old enough. Imagined tiny John on the counter handing Dad spices. Wondered, suddenly, if Dad was actually a good baker at all. Was he capable of making something that didn’t come out of a Betty Crocker box? 

You shook your head to dispel last-year-John and focused back in on present-day John. His cheeks were red from the heat radiating out of the shitty oven and his hair was sticking straight up in the front where he’d been running his hands through it. You left the table and cracked the oven door, peeking in at the massive meringue browning inside. John squawked and ushered you away. 

“Dave the Pavlova Killer, jeez.” 

You hopped up on the counter. “Pie or pavlova, which is better to get in the face?” 

He looked thoughtful. “Better to get as in, more pleasant? Or more painful? Pies are definitely heavier, but the stickiness of the meringue and all the whipped cream on top is probably funnier.” 

“Only one way to find out. Arm people with both and let ‘em go hog wild, water balloon fight style. First broken nose triumphs.” 

“I always thought breaking your nose would be sort of painless,” he said, and rubbed his nose. “But it turns out it’s probably the most painful.” He took his glasses off and handed them to you. You rubbed at the lenses with the hem of your shirt and passed them back. The front door swung open. 

“John? It smells crazy good in here!” Eleanor walked into the apartment and John stepped out of the kitchen to greet her. She skipped the last couple steps over to him and he kissed her, grinning. You leaned around the cabinet, still on the counter. 

She noticed the spread on the table. “John! Did you cook all this?” She leaned in to kiss him again. They pulled apart and she noticed you. You held up a peace sign. John kept smiling. Her eyebrows pulled together and her eyes narrowed. She looked between the two of you. John’s smile slid off his face. 

“Ellie?” 

She put her backpack down slowly on the floor. “What . . the fuck is this?” 

John’s expression belly-flopped off the cliff from confused to distraught. 

“Is Dave having a fucking candlelit romantic dinner with us? What the fuck is even going on? I was so fucking confident about all this after we talked about it and we had such a great night together and now I’m so. . . What the fuck is this?” 

A bomb could’ve gone off in the apartment without John’s expression worsening. 

You jumped off the counter and took your keys out of your pocket. She shook her head at you. “I’m on the way out. Crashing at a buddy’s place tonight, actually. Just gonna scoot on out.” Her chest rose and fell in controlled, shaky little movements. 

“Is he gonna speak for you too? Do I need to run everything by him before I ask you? Should I get his permission to fuck you?” 

John’s hands raked through his hair again, trending its messiness increasingly towards mad scientist. “Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. No, you don’t. . . Definitely don’t do that? Dave isn’t staying. He’s leaving the apartment to us tonight! It’s cool!” 

“Are you sure?” She spat out, shaking her head again. “He’s not going to crash this date too?” 

Your chest tightened. Your hand clenched into a fist at your side, your fingernails digging into your palm. John looked at you, and your heart wrenched in your chest. At least, you figured, he looked less miserable now, back to utterly dumbfounded. 

“Yeah, Ellie, totally. He’s leaving! We planned this on Monday. I guess I never specifically mentioned it.” He paused for a second. “Crashing our dates?” 

You made for the door. You were nearly there when Ellie spoke again. 

“You know what’s the craziest thing about this? You’re my boyfriend, and I should be talking to you about this, but somehow I’m unsure if Dave should leave or not, because maybe we should talk to him about this too? And you know, that’s absolutely fucking insane. Your friend has no reason to be a part of this discussion between two people who are dating. You know why he shouldn’t? Because he’s neither of the people who are currently dating. And yet, somehow, it’s like he is, because he’s always. Fucking. Here.” 

You could feel every heartbeat, all 80 milliliters of blood burning its way through your veins. You figured, maybe she had some point there, because as desperately as you wanted to be out of this situation, you couldn’t stomach leaving John here, looking like that. 

She wheeled around to look at you head-on. “Dude, just leave. I don’t really mean that. I know it’s not my house, but please get the fuck out.” 

You left. You closed the door behind you and sat down on the stoop. You dropped your head down hard enough to crack against your kneecaps. You realized, with a sudden wave of nausea, that you could still hear them through the shitty apartment walls. 

“John.” Eleanor filtered to you through drywall and popcorn ceilings and rebar and a good 10 feet of dead air. 

“Ellie, I’m so sorry. I’m sort of lost here, a little bit. Could we start from the beginning? Do. . . Do you and Dave not get along?” 

You could hear the energy in the silence that followed. You could hear how many different emotions were fighting to get out when Eleanor ended it. 

“John. Dave is fine. He’s a fine guy. I don’t really give a fuck about Dave, though. I give a fuck about the fact that no matter what we do, Dave is invited. I give a fuck that Dave is somehow inescapable. He’s like your shadow. Because, it’s fucking weird that he’s always around. It’s so fucking weird, John. And I don’t want to be a massive bitch here, but it’s fucking weird that he’s always coming with us on dates. It’s not normal.” 

“I didn’t know you felt that way! I’m sorry, Ellie. He could’ve come on less dates. It’s not like he just showed up! I invited him! I just wanted you guys to get along, since Dave and I live together, yknow, and he’s my best buddy, and. I guess. I guess I thought we were all having fun?” 

“This was the point of the conversation we had last week at the poetry slam, a thing I invited you specifically to and that you brought Dave to, uninvited! What the fuck did you think I was talking about? I was talking about how it’s weird for me to want to spend alone time with my boyfriend when he wants to spend alone time with his best friend! It’s so weird, John! So weird! I don’t understand how it’s this hard to do things with you that don’t involve him!” 

She exhaled and you could feel the surf of everything crashing against the walls, vibrating at your back. 

“I guess. I guess I thought you meant something else. That was sort of the point of tonight! Like, a grand, _I’m sorry_ romantic gesture! And Dave is. . . He’s just, yknow, he’s like, important to me too. I didn’t want him to not be a part of this too, I guess? But it sounds kind of weird when you say it out loud like that.” 

You thudded your head against your knees. You thought, what the fuck were you still doing here, eavesdropping like a total asshole. You pulled yourself to your feet. 

“It sounds weird because it is weird. And, like, I really. I don’t want to be an asshole about this, but it doesn’t work for me. I can’t keep feeling like a third-wheel on my own dates. If you want to fuck Dave, just fuck Dave. Leave me out of it.” 

You turned the truck’s stereo three notches higher than your ears could reasonably handle and made for anywhere away from the tsunami, feeling the ships sinking at your back and threatening to yank you under.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering twinArmageddons [TA] 

TG: so fucking check this 

TG: egbert is wooing this eleanor chick and its all going peachy

TG: till he cooks her this fucking feast 

TG: im talking gluttonous thanksgiving levels here

TG: eat away your shame about this shitty genocide holiday levels 

TG: and im kicking it in the kitchen 

TG: when she comes in and thinks hes invited me to join this romantic dinner

TG: a dinner he put together because shed been bummed about some shit in their relationship already 

TG: long fucking story short 

TG: its turned into a full blown telenovela miscommunication breakdown

TG: everyones fuckin miserable 

TG: im on the run like bonnie sans clyde

TG: because turns out eleanor thinks john and i have secret boners for each other 

TG: and if that doesnt cheer you up at least a little 

TG: keeping you updated on my homewrecking status 

TG: then call the ghostbusters because youve been invasion of the bodysnatched

TG: and delete these fyeo messages asap 

TA: pretty 2oon iim gonna need a more detaiiled de2criiptiion of thii2 cata2trophe

TA: but iim two bu2y laughiing two worry about clariifiicatiion 

TA: good chance iid have an aneury2m iif you proviided more joke fodder

TG: im fuckin shellshocked, sol 

TG: thank god my ice block exterior is so thick or this blowup would leave me fuckin putrid with the smell of burnt hair and roasting flesh 

TG: you thought the mixtape was fuckin fire

TA: youre 2o up2et you re2orted two calliing me by a niickname uniironiically 

TA: 2o where are you riight now

TA: wa2 the nuclear bunker compromii2ed 

TA: are you wanderiing the 2treet2 iin a daze 

TG: holed up in a dennys parking lot 

TG: where the fuck else 

TA: how clo2e are you two the be2t we2tern iin 2taunton

TG: we just gonna pretend you dont know and you picked a random motel without doing a cursory google search based on an assumption of my location 

TG: pretty close dog 

TG: two hours 

TG: 80 minutes if i punch it 

TA: ii giive you full permii2iion two driive angry

TG: can we do the holiday inn instead 

TA: banned from be2t we2tern?

TG: nah i want you to have to type holiday inn in staunton 

TA: eheheh

TGTA: depend2 on how fa2t you can get there

TG: get where

[twinArmageddons has sent a location beacon. Start directions?]

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering twinArmageddons [TA] 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering twinArmageddons [TA] 

TGTG: change of plans meet me at ihop off exit 55

TA: the extra twenty miile2 for me forfeiit2 your tiime

TGTG: ill pay for pancakes

TA: 2urprii2e thii2 ii2 an iinterventiion for your ob2e22iion wiith the holiiday iinn iin 2taunton 

TGTG: halle fuckin lujah 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering twinArmageddons [TA] 

The empty freeways sped by and you pulled into the lot 92 minutes and 18 seconds after you’d started the journey north. There were three other cars parked, too brightly-lit for the middle of the night, hoods emblazoned with the spinning neon IHOP sign. A figure disturbed the reflection on the third and closest, reclined on the hood of a Chrysler Town & Country, phone held inches above its face. You stepped out of your truck and walked towards it. A sudden brightness from the screen lit up the smile on the figure’s face. An unusually sharp tooth glinted back. You came abreast and held out a hand. Sollux grasped it and you pulled him to his feet. 

“I meant to clarify earlier. You were holed up in a Denny’s parking lot, not inside a Denny’s, and you did not eat at the Denny’s, just haunted the area outside like the world’s lamest ghost?” 

“Some asshole interrupted my dinner plans,” you said, and you fell into step with him. A bored looking teenager with bright purple nail polish seated you and you flipped through the menu, drumming your fingers on the sticky vinyl seat. Sollux scratched at the side of his head. 

“D’you get phantom horn syndrome, when you do that? Must be a bitch, with four limbs missing.” 

He smirked, half his mouth drawing up, teeth poking out. “Figure out what you’re eating. Make sure to budget enough to treat me.” 

You were deciding between stuffed french toast and a Denver omelet burger when a camera flash went off. You glanced up. Sollux had his phone positioned to take your picture, and he snickered when he caught your eye. 

“Might’ve mentioned to Vantas I was on a search and rescue mission for a missing DJ. He needed proof to set his mind at ease. You know how he worries,” he said. 

You took your phone out and he posed obligingly with his chipped mug of cheap coffee while you returned the favor. You sent it along to Karkat and screenshotted the copy Sollux had sent to you. You looked vaguely morose, entirely engrossed in the plastic menu, Sollux’s hands reflected in your shades. You scribbled on the bottom and sent it along to Eridan.

caligulasAquarium [CA] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 

CA: bein a kid and growwin up 

CA: its hard and no one understands

CA: youre so funny 

CA: turnin teenage me into a meme

TG: i dont want to challenge your clear mastery of the wworld wwide wweb

TG: but all your friends repeating one of the funniest things youve ever said to you at every opportunity is not what a meme is 

TG: speaking of the internet 

TG: is it hard remembering not to type wwwwww.webAdress

CA: get bodied 

caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 

In the end you got the french toast and the burger both, fuck it, and Sollux told you about a ridiculous drone accident at the Tech Conference he’d been attending in your neck of the woods. His hands didn’t move much as he spoke, but his fingers did, sketching out patterns on the waxy tabletop. You thought, if you both tapped out a beat long enough, eventually you’d be playing the same thing. 

His hair was just like you remembered it. Like he’d just woken up from a nap, and it was still floating around his head, like a tousled nest, but perfectly in place. Ridiculously soft. His hair had always been like rabbit fur, or mercury. You remembered how taken aback you’d been when you’d first gotten your hands tangled in it. You’d crashed into each other and you’d been pulling his face into yours. He’d kissed you viciously and you’d been caught off guard, not by how hard he’d bitten you, but by how silky his hair was. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d have silky hair. 

His voice, though, his voice you could’ve picked out of a blind lineup. He said one word to you and every conversation you’d had over text in the past sped through you on fast-forward. The trolls’ voices had all changed, once you’d crash-landed back on Earth. Their more trollish aspects had been dulled down, horns lost, fangs filed to canines. Across from you at an IHOP in the wee hours of the morning at a glorified Virginia truck stop, Sollux didn’t sound how he once had. Didn’t speak in a voice you couldn’t have explained adequately to a human who’d never had the pleasure of listening to him. He spoke like every syllable was coated in honey and he had to cough against it to get it out. He spoke like the bees churning it all out were constantly buzzing in the background. He rasped and he lisped and you remembered how it had driven you batshit fucking maggots. 

“Has anyone ever told you,” you asked him, his mouth stuffed with a massive bite of pancake, “that your voice sounds like the American voice actor for Gaara on Naruto?” 

“Aside from you? Nope.” He spoke with his mouth full, syrupy and grinning, and swallowed. “Keep asking though, maybe one day that’ll change the answer.” 

He paid while you were in the bathroom and you ran into the motel in front of him, slamming your card down on the desk before he could reach the lobby. You got a room with a single bed and asked for a cot. The guy behind the desk looked the two of you up and down. In the elevator on the way to the room, you held back a barrage of giggles. 

“I think that motherfucker doubled the security deposit for us. Do we fucking look like malcontent youth?” You gave him a once-over. “Not you. You look like.. No fucking clue. What’s with the turtleneck?” 

“Business casual,” he said, matter-of-fact, and you lost it. You laughed all the way to the room and onto the bed, collapsing as tears leaked out of your eyes. Sollux kept it together until you sat up, trying to relax, drenching your sleeves and still laughing, and then he was right there with you. You’d missed his laugh so much it hurt, and it made you laugh more, pushing out the ache, until it finally subsided. You gasped for breath and rolled over to look at him. 

“Being a kid and growing up, Sol. It’s hard and no one understands.” 

He groaned, coughed, and shook his head, covering his eyes. “Fuck. I’m gonna lose a lung.” 

You bounced around on the bed trying to get comfortable. The duvet was grey and black striped, and scratchy. You grabbed a pillow and laced your fingers behind your head. “What’s the troll equivalent of the urban legend of finding a dead body sewn inside a motel bed?” 

You felt him shrug. “Dead bodies were less of a hullabaloo on Alternia.” 

The AC unit in the window filled the room with white noise. You closed your eyes against the yellow light overhead. Your legs felt overwhelmingly heavy. A noise from the room next door shook the shared wall and you startled up. Sollux sniggered. 

“I was getting worried we weren’t going to get the classic experience of hearing another couple fuck.” 

You batted your eyelashes at him. “My word, if you’ve brought me here for such things, I’ll have you know I’m a respectable young lady.” 

“Eh,” Sollux said, shrugging again, “I’ve heard Earth Girls are easy.” 

You let your eyes close again. “I would get down on my knees right here, right now for the manager of this fine establishment if that movie was on Pay-Per-View.” 

You woke up 14 minutes later. You laid still for thirty-two seconds, listening to the shower rush in the tiny bathroom, before sitting up and searching for the remote. When Sollux came out in boxers and a t-shirt you were watching Die Hard, sans shirt, pants, and glasses. He put his folded clothes on a chair and got comfortable next to you. 

“I’d say thanks for the room, but I paid for it, so I’ll accept your thanks instead,” you told him. 

“You can thank me for the idea. Not sleeping in the car or driving back at 4am. Got clients to flatter.” He put his glasses on the nightstand and squinted at the TV. “What’s this?” 

“Best Christmas movie,” you told him. You’d forgotten how gratifying it was to see him without his glasses. You’d missed how alien his eyes were. 

You missed a lot of things recently, it seemed. Rose and Jade, always, but now you were aware of it in a new way. You thought about what John said, about how he could feel where they were at all times, tugging at him from his core. Maybe this was growing up. Missing them with the contentment you felt knowing you’d pick right back up where you’d left off. 

You were here, in a shitty motel with an old friend you’d fucked and fucked over, and you’d both driven hours in the night to do nothing. You figured, what million other things might you have been missing, if you’d missed out on being Sollux’s friend just because you were scared.

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 

EB: hey dude.

EB: you good still staying the night somewhere else? 

EB: it’s kind of complicated over here. 

TG: hanging tight 

TG: on a side note

TG: in case of emergency press the dave button two hours prior

TG: out in the boondocks battling the fireflies 

EB: yeah let me just activate my psychic future powers to predict any earth-shattering events! 

EB: see you tomorrow?

TG: duh

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] 


	5. Chapter 5

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] 

EB: how expensive would tickets be to wherever you are at this exact moment 

EB: alternatively, do you think i could sneak onto a plane? 

GG: hmmmmmmm.. 

GG: i think you can do anything you set your mind to! 

GG: but not that

GG: i can get away with that but not you

GG: <3 <3 

EB: i appreciate that you’re willing to be realistic with me here

GG: and i am in singapore!! and it’s beautiful!! 

GG: and you should absolutely 100% come join me 

GG: bring a swimming suit :D :D 

EB: okay, another question. 

EB: if i’m not sure where my passport is 

EB: can i just not worry about it 

GG: john talk like this makes me worry you are in a bit of a scrap here

EB: jade i have made a few mishaps on the romantic front 

GG: john! is your heart intact? who do i have to beat up 

EB: me, probably. 

EB: i think eleanor and i are going to break up. 

EB: and also i think it’s my fault. 

GG: <3 <3 <3 

GG: well let me tell you from firsthand experience

GG: there are plenty of fish in the sea!! 

GG: and theyre all beautiful 

EB: thanks! 

EB: that’s true. 

EB: i guess i just wish i’d done better. 

GG: do you wanna talk about it? 

GG: sometimes that makes it better! 

EB: well, it’s complicated. 

EB: kind of complicated? 

EB: not really, i guess. 

GG: bite the bullet and spit it out, john! 

GG: be brave! 

EB: so we’ve been dating for almost three months 

EB: and we’re both pretty busy with school, and band, and her sorority events and stuff 

EB: so a lot of the time when we did hang out, we ended up hanging out with dave! 

EB: because dave is awesome and also we live in the same place 

EB: so it just made sense. 

EB: and i really wanted them to like each other, because it would be tough to date someone who didn’t like your friends. 

EB: but it turns out that she didn’t really like having dave on our dates so much.

EB: and i’d never thought about it like that, but i guess your friends don’t usually come on dates with you if they’re not double dates.

EB: so she felt like i was holding her at arms-length because we were so rarely alone together. 

EB: but she tried to talk to me about it and i misunderstood and made everything worse. 

EB: and then she was upset and said she thought dave and i were into each other and i liked him more than her, like romantically.

GG: did you remember to tell her that you are not a homosexual? 

GG: :P 

EB: bisexual erasure’s a bitch! 

GG: yeah!! smash the patriarchy john!! 

GG: that does sound like a bummer though

GG: im sorry! 

GG: but maybe that just means you werent meant to be together and you can find someone who understands you more! 

GG: a step away from one thing is a step towards something else! 

EB: that’s.. actually super helpful. 

EB: i like that! 

EB: it’ll be good that we break up if we’re not going to make each other happy 

GG: <3 <3 <3 you got this!! 

EB: <3 <3 <3 

GG: and maybe 

GG: the person you were looking for was right under your nose the whole time! 

EB: do you think im in love with dave too?? 

EB: does everyone think im in love with dave???

GG: all im saying is that sometimes you dont notice things that are always there! 

GG: and also you send me sooooo many snapchats of him john 

GG: oh man

GG: its pretty adorable 

GG: but still 

EB: how am i the last one to this party. 

EB: i should be the first one to this party. 

EB: how can you be in love with a person but have no idea? 

GG: youre gonna have to ask rose about that one! 

GG: but also ignore me if you want john

GG: you are your own man! take charge of your destiny! 

GG: im here for you no matter who you date! 

EB: send pictures of singapore! 

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] 

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

EB: okay rose, i’ve got a really important question here. 

EB: no shenanigans, just a straight answer. 

EB: which is kind of a funny pun here. 

EB: rose. 

EB: am i in love with dave? 

TT: I think that, even if I could answer that for you, I wouldn’t. 

EB: rose. 

EB: that is not helpful. 

TT: Why do you ask? 

TT: If you think you might be, that’s probably a good hint that you are. 

EB: i didn’t think i might be, until eleanor and jade told me i might be. 

TT: Eleanor, your girlfriend? 

EB: soon to be ex-girlfriend, i think. 

TT: I’m sorry to hear that, John. Breakups can be difficult. 

EB: well this one especially because it ended with everyone telling me i had feelings for someone i had no idea i had feelings for! 

EB: what the fuck! 

TT: Frustrating as it is, they may simply be trying, unsuccessfully, to be helpful. 

TT: If it’s upsetting you, you can let them know. 

TT: Jade, especially, would want no part in making you unhappy. 

EB: there’s no way i can stop thinking about it now that it’s in my head. 

EB: is dave in love with me???

TT: I would like to suggest discussing this with Dave. 

EB: i have to know how i feel about him before i talk to him about those potential feelings. 

EB: how do you know if you’re in love? 

TT: A question’s that’s undoubtedly been asked since humans first codified love and the system surrounding it. 

TT: Does he make you happy? 

EB: well, yeah, obviously. 

EB: but so do you and Jade. 

TT: Are you attracted to him? 

TT: Which, honestly, is a question that’s probably unnecessary to ask. 

TT: There’s a whole spectrum of human sexuality, a good bit of which is unrelated to sexual attraction. 

TT: You could be in love with him and not be sexually attracted to him. 

EB: nah. 

EB: i mean, dave’s, yknow. he’s dave. 

EB: he’s pretty hot and that’s just kind of a moot point. 

TT: To sum up to this point – Dave makes you happy, you enjoy being around him, you find him attractive. Do you have interest in doing romantic and/or sexual things with him?

TT: With the same caveat as before, of course. 

EB: rose. 

EB: this feels so high school. 

TT: Whatever anyone else believes about your relationship is irrelevant. 

TT: There’s no pressure on you to feel one way or another about Dave. 

TT: If you don’t feel romantically towards him, that’s perfectly fine. 

TT: If you do, that’s perfectly fine as well. 

TT: I suppose my best advice for you is this – if things do end with Eleanor, and you and Dave go back to single life, consider what you get from each other. 

TT: If you’re content with your friendship as it is, you’ll know. 

TT: If you want more, you’ll know. 

TT: I truly dislike phrasing it like that, as I find telling people they’ll “just know” is reductive and unhelpful. 

TT: But in this case, I think you’ll come to feel one way or another about it naturally. 

EB: either that or i’ll get vriska to pick my brain. 

TT: I’m not confident there’s a positive ending to that. 

EB: heh heh heh

EB: thanks, rose. 

EB: i really genuinely appreciate it. 

EB: i’ll keep you updated! 

TT: Of course. And please do. 

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

TG: hypothetically speaking 

TG: were one motherfucker to be gaga over an aforementioned motherfucker like it was high school

TG: and the aforementioned motherfucker was involved and of questionable sexual orientation 

TG: and was the one motherfuckers main man and cosignee on the apartment lease

TG: what would the rules be surrounding that guilt complex 

TG: alternatively what would be the rules of engagement for proposing a different yes homo arrangement

TG: how fucked is the one motherfucker in his affections

TT: I respect you far too much to not be upfront with you. 

TT: It’s certainly a predicament, and does theoretically have unfortunate endings. 

TT: However, the aforementioned motherfucker’s status of main man lends itself to more positive outcomes. 

TT: The one motherfucker could, hopefully, rely on the aforementioned motherfucker to be understanding, if not interested in reciprocating. 

TG: turn that crank a few times and get ready for the jack to pop out of the box

TG: the aforementioned motherfucker is obviously john

TG: and im picturing you gasping and clutching your chest 

TG: regardless of how not shocked im confident you are 

TT: I am personally confident that John is almost unsettlingly understanding. 

TG: hes too understanding 

TG: hes a terrifying angel and would make an excellent serial killer 

TG: every interview w our neighbors would be like 

TG: oh that aforementioned motherfucker? sweetest guy ive ever met

TG: saved an old woman from being hit by a car carrying a sack of kittens

TG: so hell be understanding even if its a huge misstep and everything is awkward after i explain i want to pull a boy meets world

TG: if hes the boy and the world is my genitals

TG: and or some matrimonial bliss

TT: I am also personally confident that you should pitch it to him the way you just pitched it to me. 

TT: That, certainly, he’ll be charmed by. 

TG: youre telling me to shoot my shot 

TG: damn lalonde the brave and the bold over here

TT: The ball is in your court. 

TT: The big man hass the rock. 

TT: If you’re the man, and the rock is your shot. 

TG: sometimes i think 

TG: i shouldve never fucking written that shit 

TG: and then i figure

TG: my life is a giant mobius double reacharound fuck you 

TG: and sbahj is the inevitable beginning middle and end

TG: bury me in their arms

TT: If you do find yourself facing down matrimonial bliss, consider proposing with that line. 

TT: Get down on one knee, proffer the ring, and ask if the big man will have your rock. 

TG: gotta blast

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

TG: in my dreams you are the star its you

TG: thanks 

TT: Anytime. 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

You woke up to whistling. You’d woken up first 7 hours and 22 minutes ago, 4 hours and 13 minutes after you’d fallen asleep with Sollux in the very beige Holiday Inn, to the phone ringing. The desk manager from the night before hustled you out at 6 minutes to checkout and you drove your separate cars to the closest 7-Eleven. You bought old hot dogs and Slurpees and ate them in the trunk of Sollux’s ridiculous rental car. You drove 2 hours and 42 minutes back into the city, hitting rush hour traffic, getting hit with exhaustion like a sack of bricks, and were out 6 seconds after your head crashed into the pillow. 

The whistling that woke you was Mariah Carey’s _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ , and for a brief and terrifying second you imagined you’d slept all the way to December. You pulled your face free of the sticky puddle of drool you’d left and rolled onto your back to listen. The whistling continued as John – presumably, lest the apartment had been broken into by a different benign musician – shuffled around in the living room. He punctuated his whistled phrases with singing. You felt, for a second, like you could reach out and grab another moment out of the air, fall into it. Another moment you’d heard his voice, while he cooked, while you drove, one terrifying moment when you’d found yourself in the grips of a panic attack that wrenched your center all the way back into the meteors. 

His voice was objectively not all that good. It’d never seemed to bother him. Your voice was objectively better. He’d heard it for the first time three years ago, when you’d been showering at l and forgotten other people could hear you. You’d pulled the shower curtain back and he’d been sitting on the sink, all smiles and dimples and radiating baby blues. _Dave_ , he’d said, _you’re never leaving me hanging at karaoke duets again._

You wondered how he remembered it, if he thought about it. The seconds it had taken the both of you to remember you were naked. It’s just a dick, dude, he’d snorted, and then covered his eyes and hummed right where you’d left off. 

The song changed and his voice warbled, expanding to fill every last corner of the cramped apartment, winding its way through your half-open door and pressing up against the windows. _What I need, what I need_ , it told you, _is for you to be sure_. But you weren’t sure what you needed to be sure about, and before you could parse it out, you’d fallen back asleep.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] 

TG: alright sunshine 

TG: your boys in dire straits here 

TG: o cheer master 

TG: tell me how to mend a guys crushed heart 

GG: oooh youve come to the right place

GG: is it your heart? 

TG: nah its mischief masters

TG: joy boys in a bit of a plight

TG: you know what scratch all that 

TG: not adding on another plight by giving him the worst sidekick name in history

GG: captain sunshine is here to save you!! 

GG: john is so easy 

GG: just bundle him up like a little burrito and put on a bunch of his movies

GG: feed him some biryani and make the choochoo noise with the fork!

GG: hell be healed in no time!

GG: :D :D 

TG: whats the plan if hes managed to pull a vanishing act

GG: i promise i told him not to try and sneak onto a plane! 

GG: so silly. 

TG: karmas a bitch harley 

TG: its my penance for fucking off a couple weeks ago

TG: houdini hair shirt

TG: when does the self flagellation start 

GG: hmmmmm

GG: i think it starts when two consenting partners love each other very much

GG: ;D

TG: so i should chill and lie in wait 

TG: and as soon as he shows up spring my ghostbusters trap 

GG: that is exactly what i said 

TG: reading in between the lines 

GG: i bet when you were the cutest little baby bro taught you to hold your fist up and say that 

GG: and then he was so proud of your sass

TG: gotta learn those kids up early in the ways of sarcasm

GG: definitely dont give john a huge hug from me!! 

GG: and dont check your mail tomorrow

GG: you MAY or may not be getting a surprise package

TG: youre a goddess

GG: captain sunshine out :D <3 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] 

You figured that John’s four day vanishing act, if it was karma, was effective karma. Your solo apartment time was confusing, a phrase that was itself kind of confusing. John was blowing up your Snapchat like he always did and you both carefully avoided mentioning the breezy wake he’d left behind. You passed each other on your way in and out of the apartment and high fived and moved on to separate spaces. You went to a math discussion class you’d avoided all semester. You pestered Sollux, _looks like w/o johnny boy id be graduating early what a distraction from my studies_ , and worked on a new song. You hung out at the club, scoping out their newest DJ. You played video games with Lucas from Statics and never once snapchatted John from the couch, alone. 

The Longfellow Loop ended early Saturday morning when you emerged, stretching, from the bedroom and John greeted you with a smile full of Froot Loops. You saluted him, poured a bowl, and joined him at the table. 

You crunched and slurped your way through 36 brightly-colored cereal seconds before he broke the quiet. 

“About to head over to Eleanor’s. You want anything from Starbucks on the way back?” 

“Cake pop.” 

He snickered. “You’re gonna sugar crash so hard. Require an IV of something savory.” He fished the last Loops out and drank a spoonful of pink-green milk. “You know, Froot Loops are less colorful now because General Mills switched to all-natural dyes. No more chemicals, no more cartoon colors. You for or against?” 

“Against.” You gulped the milk straight from your bowl. “Nature doesn’t have shit on Toucan Sam.” 

“You’re gonna be shitting rainbow, dude. All those dyes the human body can’t break down.” He poured the rest of his milk into your bowl and tossed his into the sink. 

You finished his milk. “That’s hot.” 

He smiled at you when you looked at him. He laced his shoes up and headed out. 

He was gone for 2 hours and 17 minutes. You had no idea whether he was going to win her back, because you knew he could in a second, or to end it, but regardless of who was going to need cheering up tonight, you were damn well going to be there. You made a tower of his favorite movies and ordered Indian. You worked on the remix of his favorite opera you’d been laboring over for the last five months, unable to decide whether it was actually good or not. You ate another bowl of cereal. You showered. He stomped up the stairs outside, closed the door behind him, and kicked his shoes off. One flew across the room and knocked into your chair. You leaned it back on one leg and tossed a paperclip at him.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] 

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT THE DEFINITION OF MASOCHISM IS? 

CG: IT’S CONTINUALLY RETURNING TO A SOURCE OF PAIN TO YOUR PHYSICAL OR EMOTIONAL BEING AND ENJOYING THAT PAIN. 

CG: HERE I AM, RETURNING TO A SOURCE OF PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL PAIN, SO I MUST BE ENJOYING IT. 

CG: YOU’RE LIKE MY OWN PERSONAL INTERACTIVE FUCKING SOAP OPERA, JUST FUCKING DVR’ED THAT SHIT AND KEEP COMING BACK TO IT, SCREAMING INEFFECTUALLY AT THE SCREEN. BECAUSE IT MAY AS WELL NOT BE INTERACTIVE, FOR ALL THE FUCKING GOOD MY ADMONITIONS DO. 

EB: do you actually like soap operas? 

EB: i bet you do. 

EB: how do you feel about days of our lives? 

CG: I FEEL LIKE I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT SHITTING BELIEVE IT’S BEEN ON AIR AS LONG AS IT HAS. 

CG: I YELL. INTO THE MOTHERFUCKING VOID. 

EB: hows this arc of the soap? 

EB: better or worse than egberts prom adventure? 

EB: or egbert getting his license? 

CG: ALL EQUALLY STUPID. ALL EQUALLY EYE-BURNING. 

CG: ALTHOUGH SOMEHOW STILL LESS SEXUAL TENSION THAN THIS ONE. 

EB: yeah prom was pretty disappointingly tame. 

EB: is the sexual tension between me and dave?

EB: are you here as the third horseman of the apocalypse to tell me about our love?

CG: SHOCKING THAT YOU GUESSED I AM HERE TO ENQUIRE ABOUT THE NOT SO FUCKING COOL AT ALL KID. 

CG: A KID THAT HAS BEEN USHERED BACK INTO OUR LIVES AFTER HE MADE UP WITH SOLLUX AND NOW SOLLUX IS JUST WHEEZING WITH FUCKING JOKES ABOUT HOW THIS WHOLE STUPID SITUATION IS DAVES DUMB FUCKING KARMIC RETRIBUTION AND THEN FEELING BAD FOR SHITTING ON DAVES MEAGRE LOVE LIFE IN ONE OF HIS MOOD SWINGS AND THEN CACKLING TWELVE SECONDS LATER ABOUT THE WHOLE DUMBFUCK METEORIC CATASTROPHE. 

EB: woah woah woah.

EB: whats up with daves meagre love life?

EB: karmic retribution?

EB: for the whole thing with sollux??

EB: is what??

CG: NORMALLY ID USE THIS SPACE HERE TO ABSOLUTELY FUCKING THRASH YOU FOR THE NONSENSE YOU JUST SENT.

CG: BUT I’M GOING TO OWN UP TO THIS ONE AND SAY I MAY HAVE MADE A MISTAKE WITH MY PHRASING. 

CG: AND I’LL THRASH MYSELF INSTEAD. 

CG: PRINT THIS OUT AND MAKE COPIES AND POST THEM ON SOLLUX’S DOOR SO HE CAN HAVE A FATAL ASTHMATIC ATTACK LAUGHING HIS UGLY BONY ASS OFF ABOUT IT. 

EB: im gonna give you a tip, man. 

EB: if you put your foot in your mouth again in the future, maybe try and play it off a little cooler than that. 

EB: because i definitely wasn’t sure something was up at all

EB: and now you definitely have to tell me about the confidential info you definitely just spilled.

CG: HOW IS NAVIGATING THIS INANE SPIDERWEB GAME OF LITERAL TELEPHONE SO MUCH MORE DIFFICULT THAN ANY OF VRISKA’S CONVOLUTED LABYRINTHINE MIND GAMES. 

EB: are we more than you bargained for yet 

EB: have you been trying to tell us 

EB: well, not anything we want to hear, i guess. 

EB: more the direct opposite of that. 

CG: ARE YOU JUST QUOTING SONG LYRICS AT ME? 

CG: IS THIS SOME HILARIOUS REFERENCE? 

EB: i definitely wouldn’t say hilarious 

EB: but it is song lyrics.

EB: and in one of that band’s music videos there’s a dude with horns. 

EB: which i actually just remembered as i typed that, which means it works on more levels than i’d originally thought. 

CG: OH YEAH, YOU’RE FUCKING BRILLIANT AT THAT ONE USELESS SKILL, SHOW ME MORE. 

CG: A VERY SLOW AND SARCASTIC CLAP FOR YOUR TALENTS. 

EB: so what’s up with dave’s meagre love life? 

CG: YOU WEREN’T SUFFICIENTLY DISTRACTED AND LEAD OFF THAT SUBJECT? 

EB: holy shit i just googled it and it’s the music video for that song. 

EB: that’s so exciting. 

EB: bow down to my references, dude. 

EB: so what’s up with dave’s meagre love life? 

CG: I’M CONFIDENT THAT I AM ONE HUNDRED PERCENT NOT ALLOWED TO AT ALL EXPLAIN THE SITUATION TO YOU AND WOULD RISK DISEMBOWLING BY TWO SEPARATE PEOPLE IF I DID. 

EB: i’m gonna refer you to my earlier comment about trying to play things off with a little more chill. 

EB: woah woah woah. 

EB: woah woah woah x2. 

EB: why did you message me in the first place if this wasn’t what we were going to talk about? 

CG: THE ANSWER TO THAT I CAN NO LONGER GIVE YOU AS THEN YOU’D HAVE A GOOD CHANCE OF GUESSING WHAT WAS UP WITH DAVE’S MEAGRE LOVE LIFE. WHICH WAS NOT THE INTENTION. 

CG: HOLY FUCKING SHIT. 

CG: I LITERALLY CANNOT FUCKING PROCESS HOW BADLY I FUCKED THIS UP. 

CG: FUCK YOU AND DAVE AND SOLLUX AND JACK NOIR AND THE INTERNET AND BASICALLY EVERY OTHER FUCKING THING FOR LEADING US TO THIS MOMENT. 

CG: I’M JUST GONNA GO OFF MYSELF. 

CG: I HATE ALL OF YOU AND ALSO THIS. 

EB: it’s a good thing you’re cute when you get all flustered! 

EB: like a little baby hedgehog. 

CG: DO YOU CONSTANTLY MAKE FLIRTY COMMENTS TOWARDS ME IN REFERENCE TO MY FAILED ATTEMPT TO HATE ROMANCE YOU WHEN WE WERE FUCKING WRIGGLERS. 

EB: nah. 

EB: i just get a kick out of it. 

EB: you are cute though dude. 

EB: we just would’ve made a terrible couple! 

EB: i hadn’t embraced my sexuality yet. 

EB: and i dig being your buddy. 

CG: THIS BARING OF OUR SOULS IS WORSE. 

EB: so dave’s meagre love life. 

CG: YOU’RE THE WORLD’S WORST PARROT. I WOULD SLAUGHTER YOU IN MY DUMB VICTORIAN PARLOR IF YOU WERE MY PET. 

EB: is dave okay? 

CG: MAYBE YOU COULD JUST GO ASK HIM AND LET ME BROOD IN PEACE. 

EB: <3

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] 

ectoBiologist [EB] started pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

EB: is dave into me romantically?

TT: You did ask me the exact reverse of that question the last time we spoke, if I’m remembering correctly. 

TT: Not exact, excuse me. Last time the question was, “Am I in love with Dave?”

EB: yeah but last time it was mostly joking.

EB: and then karkat started talking about dave’s love life and i’m pretty sure it has something to do with me and somehow i don’t think he’s in love with eleanor and trying to find a way to break it to me. 

TT: I think he wouldn’t mind me telling you that you are correct and he is not in love with Eleanor. 

TT: Well, I assume. He’s only mentioned her once. 

EB: what a twist that would be. 

EB: you’re gonna tell me i should ask him, aren’t you?

TT: It is, unfortunately, still my best suggestion. 

EB: it would suck how often you were right if i didn’t appreciate it so much. 

EB: damn you, irony. 

EB: does that count as irony? 

EB: don’t tell me. 

EB: gotta talk to dave. 

TT: Good luck, John! 

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

He caught the paperclip and fastened it onto his shirt collar. 

“Scratch that cake pop, saving all my stomach real estate for dinner. You ready to destroy all this?” You pointed at the table, hidden under takeout containers. 

“Ooh, glad to hear you say that. Totally forgot to stop at Starbucks. Eleanor and I broke up.” He stayed where he was, just inside the apartment, smiling in a way you couldn’t quite place. “I went over thinking I should probably break up with her and she broke up with me. She was super nice about it too. She’ll find someone awesome.” 

You rubbed your palms, suddenly sweaty, against your jeans and rocked your chair. You wished it was a swivel chair, just so your feet had something better to do. “And they say breakups can never be mutual.” 

He rubbed his neck, still smiling. “Yeah, it’s for the best for both of us. Just couldn’t get my head in the game.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You said. “I know a guy from East High that can help you with that.” 

John took a step closer to you. “He got his head and the girl both, right? Real best of both worlds situation.” 

“Woah, woah.” You held your hands up. “Talk about a mixed metaphor.” 

His grin burst out suddenly, full megawatt force. “Oops. Those shows all kinda run together for me. So how’d he get the girl, anyways?” 

You swallowed. “Uh, ski slope and a depressing New Years’ Eve party. Hard to replicate if you’re a poor motherfucker.” 

“We do have snow around here. And you can definitely do a depressing party on the cheap.” 

You cracked your knuckles and watched him scrunch his nose up. “That was just the kissing genesis. There was also a musical and a sport and eventually a very exclusive summer resort.” 

He rubbed his chin, faking a thoughtful expression, grin peeping through. “So what you’re saying,” he said, “is that sloppy makeouts are what really started it all, and thus how he really got the girl?” 

“Flash point for a lot of that shit, I reckon.” 

You got up out of your chair and made for the kitchen, wiping your palms again and searching for clean cups. You turned to fill one in the sink and suddenly John was there, immediate and in your space, radiating summer heat and cherry blossom breezes and periwinkle eyes. He put his hand on your hip. 

You looked at him for 0.7 seconds that stretched for hours, molasses hours that drained through you until he kissed you, and then they snapped forward so fast it gave you whiplash. You stumbled and he tightened his grip, looping his arm around you and holding you steady with one hand. You pressed every part of yourself that still had feeling into him and your mouth fell open enough against his to taste chlorine and wet grass. 

He pulled back. You sucked in a quick breath. He huffed out a laugh. 

“Wasn’t uh,” he said, “wasn’t sure I was actually gonna do that until I was doing that.” 

“Gotta admit, it was pretty smooth. Not sure I can let you keep racking up those suave points, though. Upset the balance of the universe.” He laughed again. You wanted, ferociously, to hear him laugh into your mouth, against your collarbone, into your side, and next to you, next to you, always. 

“You might be the better kisser,” he told you. “Would need evidence though. I can’t just trust the committee’s opinion.” He watched you expectantly. “If that’s. What you’re interested in.” 

You let him hang for 1.6 seconds before pressing your lips back together and looping your arms around his neck. You used the 3 inches you had on him to crowd him up against the counters and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. You could feel his smile as you broke the kiss just to dive back in again, molding yourself against him, his hands tracing lines up your spine and holding tight. 

_Obviously, you, Dave Strider, are the superior kisser. But, if you’re gonna be admitting things today anyways, John’s a pretty close second._

You wrestled each other onto the couch and he got you in his lap, your back hunched like a gargoyle to meet his mouth. When you pulled apart he was cheesing up at you. 

“Not to break the mood or anything,” he said, and you leaned back as far as possible to eye him, “but before we talk about how I definitely want to get my hand down your pants, should we talk about what’s uh.. Up, now?”

You pushed your sunglasses back up your nose. “This doesn’t mean we’re married now?” 

He snorted and swatted your thigh, muscle tensed to keep your knee from bending at a truly excruciating angle. “I don’t have a ring!” 

“Guess it means something else then,” you said, and he caught your hand, holding three of your fingers. 

“Like a dating thing, would maybe be the word for that?” 

“Depends. Do you want to be this dude’s boyfriend?” 

His mouth twitched. “I reckon I do. Does The Dude abide?” 

You frowned. “If we need his blessing it’s gonna be a long uphill climb. Guess I’ll just have to abide instead.” You paused. “Boyfriend.” 

He laughed, stomach shaking you. “Aw man. Can I have a different pet name? Calling me ‘boyfriend’ sounds weird.” 

“Only if we can resituate so a motherfucker isn’t doing a treacherous balancing act over here,” you told him, and he laughed again. 

“How would you feel about being more horizontal?” He asked, and you tingled, little sparks racing through your veins and speeding up your heart. 

“Think I could be made amenable,” you said, and your voice came out a little deep and a little hoarse and you coughed. He beamed. 

_Obviously, you are Dave Strider and the best at all things sex, and if you’re second to John, you’ll just have to keep trying._

You’d gotten each other shirtless when Rose called. You’d been trying to schedule spring break plans for weeks and, boner or no boner, you figured it was rude to not pick up. John grabbed the water glass you’d been distracted from in the kitchen and filled it while you talked. He moved back into your space, sitting next to you and leaning into you, and you reached out and touched him back. Rose sent her love and hung up. 

“How long d’you think we can keep the best buddies ruse going? She’ll be crushed if she finds out we talked four minutes after it happened and I forgot to mention anything.”

John smiled and put his hand on his chin. “Good question. I guess just send her dick pics on Snapchat and say they were for me?” 

You blew out a jet of air. “God damn, dude. How’d you know I wanted to be smugly shamed to death?” 

“Eh, just a hunch,” he said, and smiled a little more. You kissed him. 

“We’ve got these two bedrooms now, too. What are we even gonna do? Sleep separately to keep the magic alive?” 

You snorted. “Yeah, your snoring’s really gonna stop this train in its tracks.” 

“Oh yeah, I’d get really sick of waking up an icicle every night after you stole all the covers,” he said, and he just kept smiling, and you wanted to smile right back at him until it hurt. 

“Guess we really rushed into this.” 

He bopped your nose. “Pfft. Yeah, it only took ten short years. I don’t think I could even consider moving in with you for another.. oh, wait..” 

You kissed him and he laughed against your tongue and you barely avoided guffawing a gross amount of his spit back into his mouth. He grabbed you around the shoulders and twisted himself to face you better. He pulled back. 

“It’s okay, Dave. Best friends becoming lovers is like, the second best romcom plot. How many other clichés can we tick off?” 

“We’re both movie star handsome.” 

“Nailed it. Uh.. miscommunication? But between Ellie and me, so I guess that doesn’t really count.” 

“Obliviousness,” you told him, and he eyed you, lips twitching at the edges. 

“Oh yeah, I mean, I might have had a little help working up the nerve for this.” His fingers traced circles on the back of your neck. “I think three people told me I was in love with you before I said anything.” 

“That too? Egbert, man, your awareness is tragic. Like, serial killer behind you and you won’t turn your drunk teen self around to notice. I meant that I was definitely lusting over you for a hot minute there.” 

You could tell it was taking everything he had not to smile bigger somehow still, teeth and all. 

“What can I say? I’d never make it past Freddy. Lucky I’ve got you guys here to point out the obvious.” He scrunched your shirt up tight in his fingers and wriggled a little closer. “Because, yknow, once I thought about it, it really just made sense. Guess I’d been crazy about you so long I stopped noticing. Cause, if you’d kissed me in high school, I might have fainted on the spot.” 

You wished you could see your fucking face. There was no way it wasn’t doing something truly ridiculous.

“Sorry dude, neither of us had braces. Romantic sloppy 15 year old makeouts just ain’t worth it without getting stuck together.” 

He smiled then, finally, all of it, and you kind of wanted to lick his teeth, and you kind of wanted to tell him you loved him, thirteen minutes into your new entanglement. 

“Guess we wasted a hot minute though. I’ll be on my deathbed begrudging all that shitty fumbling race car bed sex,” you told him, and he was as close as he could be without being in your lap, and if that wouldn’t make him harder to look at, you’d want him there already. If he didn’t make your heart burst first. 

“I think I like this story better,” he said, and kissed you. A thousand cool pinpricks bubbled up under your skin, and you would’ve sworn you steamed everywhere his lightness touched your boiling blood. You breathed him in. You figured, he’d know sooner or later that he lit you up like the Fourth of July. That it’d taken you an eternity to realize, too, that you were so fucking in love. That you’d take every opportunity to tell him, for this next eternity. 

“I think this was how it was supposed to be,” he said, and rubbed your noses together, and your fingers twitched and held on. 

_Obviously, you are Dave Strider and the ultimate cool kid, and if you think you’re luckier to have John than he is to have you, you think he just might think the opposite, and that just might be just how it’s supposed to be._

Quarter finals came and went in a haze of textbooks and flashcards and John’s coffee breath and your Monster breath, he’d assured you several times, which was just as bad. You and he had your tickets booked to fly out and see Rose and you were counting down the days, staying up late to study and distract each other. Somewhere in there John got an invite from Eleanor to come to another sorority party, _she says she just wants everything to be chill between us for band_ , and you’d agreed it both made sense to go and that you maybe owed her a little bit. 

14 hours, 20 minutes, and 11 seconds to takeoff you showed up on her doorstep, party already raging inside. She met you a few feet from the entrance and hugged John, her hair buoyant and coiling around her head like a cloud. She hugged you, too, and gave you both the onceover. 

“So, Eleanor,” he said, and you were certain she could see the mischief in his smile too, “You’ve met my boyfriend Dave, right?” 

She met his smile watt for watt. “Hmm, y’know, I’m actually not sure that I have!” She reached out her hand and you shook it. “Nice to meet you, John’s boyfriend.” 

You tipped your invisible hat. “Likewise. Thanks for letting us crash your shindig.” 

She lead you back towards the kitchen and you whispered in John’s ear, “The lady’s got a great handshake. Why’d you break up with her?” 

He turned towards you and made a show of rolling his eyes, grinning. Even in the uneven house party lighting he glimmered, lit up as he moved through the crowds like sunlight reflecting off fish scales. The blue of his eyes crashed against you, sending up sea spray, and you narrowly resisted the urge to pull him flush to your chest and kiss the chill and salt right out of him. 

20 minutes later Eleanor joined you leaning against a wall in the living room, John in the middle of a heated discussion with two other band kids. She clinked her solo cup against your water bottle and gestured towards John with it. 

“He might be the friendliest person I’ve ever met.” 

“Regular golden retriever,” you said. “Hey look, uh, this isn’t how I thought this was going to turn out. I wasn’t planning it, or whatever. And I wasn’t always so friendly myself when y’all were dating, and I’m sorry about that.” 

She knocked her shoulder against yours, gently. “I appreciate that. But you didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did I, and neither did John. Just a bunch of confused but well-meaning people.” 

You nodded and lapsed into silence, both of you watching him. He broke away from his group and held his hands out for you. You grabbed onto one and he pulled you off the wall. 

“Mind if I cut in?” He asked, and bowed to Eleanor. 

She laughed and waved her hand. “Take him, take him. All yours, Jay.” 

You followed him onto the makeshift dance floor and he put both hands on your hips, bouncing against you. 

“Okay, one dance and then we’ll split and have raucous sex at home. Just gotta make a request with the DJ,” he told you, and then bounced away again. 

You busied yourself with your phone until he got back to you and replaced his hands. 

“Haven’t I taught you anything about DJs, dude? You’re never hearing that song,” you told him. He leaned in and tapped your noses together. 

“I actually may have arranged this ahead of time.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, impossible to see in the cheap colored string lights behind your sunglasses, but you figured he’d get the message. You put your arms around his shoulders, still a good six inches apart, and swayed gently with the music.

“I was pretty gutted I’d left awkward prom dancing behind when I got to college. This was the revival it needed.” 

He nodded sagely and closed the gap between himself and you. “Well, you missed your prom, so I thought I should recreate the experience,” he crooned into your ear, head on your shoulder. 

“I think our arm positions need to be switched for this to really work,” you told him, “although this is definitely uncomfortable.” 

He bit your earlobe. The song had changed while you’d been talking but it had taken you those 30 seconds to recognize anything about it. 

“Is this Ke$ha?” You asked him, and you felt him nod. “What’s the-“ you started, and then stopped. He snickered, and pulled back to press your foreheads together and sing directly into your face. 

“Fuck him he’s a DJ,” he told you, beaming, and you kissed him, and he finished the chorus against your tongue.

turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

TG: yo lalonde

TG: were coolin our heels at bag drop here

TG: proper ice age passing waitin for you 

TT: I hope you’re prepared for the Holocene, then. 

TT: I am quite literally one minute from you. 

TG: wanna bet

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] 

The airport bustled by in the grey light filtering down through the clouds. It dripped off the shiny tops of your shoes and nestled in John’s down jacket pockets. You rubbed your mitten-less hands together. John cupped them between his, similarly bare, and blew a gust of frozen air into your fingers. 

“Forgot it wouldn’t be warmer here. It’s May.” you told him, and laced your fingers together. “We’ll have to huddle together for warmth.” 

He pressed himself against your side and cooed. “We’ll be the two cutest pigeons in Central Park.” 

You sniffed and rubbed at your nose. John waved at the pickup lane and you spotted Rose’s ridiculously black car pulling up, sucking all the watery sunlight into itself. John smiled up at you, pool water and pink cheeks, and you squeezed his hand tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Donna Summer for providing the soundtrack to this last chapter. The song John is singing when Dave is asleep is here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YynKelHGhNc . The song at the party is here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbMBFOPSX-Y . 
> 
> If there's something you'd like tagged, please let me know.


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